


A Good Deed

by Markovia



Series: A Good Deed [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gun Violence, M/M, Mention of Suicide (not of main characters), Physical Disability, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, but almost, not quite fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 101,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markovia/pseuds/Markovia
Summary: He didn't want the monster to help him, not the first time, or now. He wanted him dead.





	1. A bloody creature

Rain spattered against the concrete of the city, blurring the lights of the evening landscape. He liked it when it rained, but it did mean that few people remained in the streets and those that did were obscured by umbrellas and raincoats. He didn’t see the issue - it was a warm summer, the rain was a pleasant change from the sweltering days they had been experiencing. He stretched his legs out over the edge of the building and sighed. Ikebukuro had been fairly quiet recently, much to his displeasure. There had been  little activity on the forums he frequented, only a few messages from random girls he had been speaking to. He had been craving excitement, a little chaos - chaos was fun. But as there were no new leads and most of his usual targets were out of town for the holidays, he had gone searching for the wrong sort of fight.

 

Izaya knew he didn’t have the physical strength of a lot of his opponents, he prided himself on his intelligence and agility. He didn’t expect the gang he was playing with to have more members waiting in the shadows. The man ran a hand over the stab wound in his shoulder and coughed loudly, blood splattering down his chin. Escaping hadn’t been too hard, he was faster than them, but he had already taken a number of hits before he lost them. The stab wound on his shoulder was by far the worst as the knife had been forced in up to the hilt and a few shallow slashes ran across his chest.

 

“Stupid,” he muttered, under his breath.

 

Izaya let out a deep sigh and leaned back, so that he lay flat against the wet concrete with his calves dangling over the edge of the building. The rain fell softly against his face. It was a pleasant feeling as the shower was more like a fine mist than a torrent. Peace was not his chosen environment but he had to admit it was nice every now and then. Perhaps he should just sleep there, with the cool water spraying his face, his blood warm on the concrete and the sounds of the city surrounding him. Izaya yawned and tried to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth - how long had it been since he’d slept, it must have been a few days. He didn’t like sleeping, it took up precious time, time that could be spent weaving webs. He would often sleep fitfully, jerking awake at the slightest sound for fear of people invading his home. As much as he would like to think he was something greater, Izaya was only human and sometimes sleep, deep and undisturbed, was needed. The burn in his shoulder began to numb - he wasn’t certain if it was the rain or the loss of blood. He didn’t want to die but if he had to, this rooftop wasn’t too bad a place. A small voice told him that he should stop pretending that he was a godlike figure, he was human, he was bleeding, he was alone. A pathetic, weak, friendless figure, dying on top of an unknown building in the rain. Izaya smiled wearily - _he really really hoped he wouldn’t die._

 

Somewhere, far away in the distance, a noise rang out. It must have been loud as he heard it vaguely over the great distance. As Izaya felt himself drifting into darkness, eyes closing tiredly, he mused over the noise. It sounded like a lion, he thought, like a lion roaring...

 

The lion approached quickly and its shadow moved over the form of the brunette. Shizuo Heiwajima raised a smoking cigarette to his lips and took a harsh drag. The soft mist of rain had saturated his bartender’s uniform so that it clung tightly to his skin and his shaggy blonde hair lay slick on his forehead. The cigarette fizzled out, much to his annoyance, so he flicked it off the building. The blonde’s usual rage was mildly muted, having spent most of the afternoon and evening holed up in his favourite bar, though that was not to say that the sight of the bloodied informant didn’t send a strong feeling of anger through him. It had been a rough week. Tom had been at the receiving end of a frantic individual who wouldn’t pay back the debt they had come to collect and Shizuo blamed himself entirely, as he had been too busy beating the individual’s henchmen within an inch of their lives to notice. Tom was recovering in the hospital and doing fine, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

 

He needed to learn to control his temper as he tended to get lost in the rage. So far he’d managed to quell his anger by funnelling beer and whiskey into his body until he passed out. He scowled down at Izaya and tilted his head to one side. The flea looked sickly, thin and was saturated with blood that poured from various wounds on his body. He didn’t care about the man’s well being but he couldn’t help but notice his worse-for-wear condition. He knew that Izaya didn’t take care of himself but he never expected he would find him like this - he must have had a run in with one of his many enemies. Shizuo raised his foot above the man’s head. Slowly, he lowered it so that the sole of his shoe was pressed against the informant’s pale, hollow cheek. The urge to make the smaller man suffer was nearly overwhelming.

 

“Izaya,” he hissed, applying slight pressure to his head. He smirked - he could kill the other man if he so desired, it would be so simple. Even through his bleary, drunk haze, Shizuo knew that was not the kind of act he wished to commit. Slowly, he removed his foot and settled it next to Izaya’s head. The blonde let out an irritated grunt and swiftly kicked the man’s skull - he wouldn’t let the flea get off that easily, even if he wasn’t going to kill him.

 

“Agh - fuck!” Izaya yelped, rolling onto his side. He clutched his head and hissed in pain as he sat upright to look at his attacker. When he caught sight of the ex-bartender looming above him, he gave him a toothy grin. He clutched his shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. “Shizu-chan, what a pleasant surprise.”

 

“Shut it,” the other man snarled, feeling fire burn in his chest even from the few words he had spoken. It was easier to quell his rage when Izaya was silent. “What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay away.”

 

Izaya clambered to his feet, rubbing his eyes with his hands to remove the water that had pooled there. He placed his free hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over his flick-knife. He couldn’t help the slight feeling of relief that washed over him. Izaya knew he was physically weaker than Shizuo and in his already-injured state he was an easy target. He was intellectually superior, faster and more agile, but he needed time to plan out his moves. Waking to see those hate-filled eyes staring down at him sent a pang of fear through him - he needed to get away before the other man lost control and tore him to shreds. He was surprised that he was still breathing.

 

“I fancied a trip into the city,” Izaya replied, pulling his hood over his head with one hand. He eyed Shizuo up and down - he was unusually collected and his eyes were hazy. The brunette frowned. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Fuck off,” Shizuo grunted. He observed the man for a moment longer, taking in the stab wound on his shoulder and the bruises that circled his eyes. Against his better judgement, he turned away from Izaya and began to head toward the iron staircase that led to the alleyway below them. “Go home before I change my mind and stamp on your fuckin’ head.”

 

Izaya watched silently as the blonde started to head down the stairwell. Why was he acting so strangely? If this had been any other day, Shizuo would have been in one of his usual tempers. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want any sympathy from the monster. The informant scowled and strode after him, removing his flick-knife from his pocket. If Shizuo didn’t make the first move, he would, even if he was bleeding profusely. He moved forward sluggishly and shoved his hand against the ex-bartender’s back, causing him to trip down the first flight of metal steps. Shizuo had barely hit the landing before he swung back around and pushed himself back up the stairs, his carefully controlled anger finally rearing its ugly head.

 

“Iz-a-ya!” he snarled, viciously. Before the smirking informant could react, the ex-bartender clamped a large hand over his face and dug his fingers into his skull. Izaya let out a loud yell as he was thrown across the rooftop. He fell silent when his body hit the brick wall of the building next door and he fell down to the roof, legs collapsing underneath him. Shizuo took in a shaky breath and stomped toward the other man’s fallen form, trying his best to quell his rage.

 

“Stupid flea,” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t fuckin’ leave me alone, can ya?”

 

He crossed his arms over his chest. The other man didn’t respond. Shizuo scowled and tutted under his breath. Izaya was slumped against the wall, limbs splayed out around him like a rag doll, unmoving. A thin stream of blood ran down the side of his face and joined the much larger shoulder wound which dripped onto the floor, where it was slowly diluted by the thin rain. His flick-knife lay at his side, shining and useless.

 

“Oi,” Shizuo called, nudging the man’s leg with his shoe. He didn’t move, so he kicked him a little harder. Still nothing. The blonde crouched down and placed his forefinger against Izaya’s drooping head so that he could push it upright. It lolled backward against the wall, revealing closed eyes and an open mouth. Thick, dark blood dripped from between his lips and down his chin. Shizuo moved his hand down so that he could check Izaya’s pulse. It was slow, but clear. When he began to inspect the stab wound near his collarbone, he frowned - why was he even bothering? He despised Izaya, he had often proclaimed a desire to slaughter the man. So why wasn’t he? Izaya was out-cold, an easy target and yet he found that he didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want to kill him _when he was already dying._ Shizuo grinned, pleased he wasn’t going soft. With a sigh, he heaved the informant over his shoulder and found himself surprised by how light he was.

 

“C’mon flea,” he drawled, as he made his way toward the staircase. “I’ll make sure you don’t die so I can kill you later.”

 

-0-

 

Shizuo leaned back in his armchair and placed a newly-lit cigarette into his mouth. As he took a deep drag, he cracked open a fresh beer and observed the crumpled body on the sofa opposite. He had debated whether or not to take the informant to Shinra, but decided against it to save face. It turned out that the doctor was away at a conference according to his answerphone message, so he wouldn’t have been much help regardless. It wouldn’t do his reputation any good if people starting thinking he was going soft on Izaya. They might think he _cared._ If he dropped Izaya off at the hospital they would probably arrest him, thinking it had been the result of one of their famed fights rather than someone else’s doing.

 

The blonde let out a stream of smoke and took a long swig of beer, head already hazy from an entire afternoon of drinking. The informant had been out-cold for an entire day, so it was now around five o’clock and the sun was beginning to shirk away from the sky. He’d patched up Izaya’s shoulder as best he could - using vodka to clean the injury and an ace bandage hastily wound around it to stem the bleeding. Shizuo grimaced as he continued to gulp down large quantities of beer. He had to remove Izaya’s shirt so that he could get to it, which hadn’t been a pleasant experience for him. The informant had been far more beaten up than he expected. A number of large bruises were dotted across his torso and a black, swollen area on his side suggested that a few ribs had been broken. Shizuo decided to wait until the other man woke before offering an ice pack.

 

Izaya had always seemed so indestructible, Shizuo thought, tapping his cigarette. Ash fell onto the floor, sullying an already sullied carpet. Yet here he was, half-dead, on his sofa. The blonde chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief - the informant was human, just like the rest of them. _Us,_ he corrected himself. He clamped his fist around the empty beer-can as easy as squeezing butter and threw it into the bin in the corner of the room. Perhaps years of being called a monster were getting to him. He grunted at the thought and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table.

 

He stood up from the armchair and moved to the kitchen counter to get another beer. What was his plan after Izaya woke up, he thought, pulling a can from the box. Should he kick him out into the night, tell him to go home? Maybe he should take him to the hospital whilst he’s still out-cold and run before the staff see him. Or, let him stay here. Shizuo frowned and leaned against the counter so that he could look down at the injured man, trying to make sense of his confused thoughts. He hated him, oh boy, how he hated him - so what was this unusual pang of sympathy he felt when he looked at him? Izaya looked so small, Shizuo thought he could probably snap him in two with little to no effort.

 

He shook his head and opened the beer in his hand. It couldn’t be sympathy, he thought, surely he was just annoyed because he wanted to be the one to kill the flea. That had to be it! He flopped back down in the armchair and lit another cigarette.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

Shizuo glanced up to see Izaya stirring. The brunette flinched when he opened his eyes, seeing the blonde staring back at him. He went to sit up but a shot of pain ran through his body, causing him to hiss.

 

“I wouldn’t try an’ move if I were you,” Shizuo commented, amused. The informant ignored him and tried to sit up again, gasping loudly when he failed. “Actually, carry on, s’funny.”

 

Izaya glared at him, gritting his teeth in pain as he laid back down. It was only when he felt the fabric of the sofa scratch against his back did he realise he was half-naked. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

 

“They were covered in crap, so I put them in the sink,” he answered, jamming his thumb toward the kitchen area that was joined to the living room. “You can thank me later.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on thanking you at all,” Izaya responded, irritably. “I presume by the disgusting smell and the mess that we are in your apartment.”

 

“Right you are,” he said, letting out a cloud of smoke. Shizuo was rather enjoying himself - the other man’s discomfort was obvious. Seeing Izaya so weak and exposed made it quite clear that he was entirely at the blonde’s mercy. It was almost as satisfying as landing a punch on him, he thought. “You’ve been out for an entire day, flea. There was me thinkin’ you might not wake up.”

 

Izaya tentatively raised a hand and ran his fingers over the bandage on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side so he could look at Shizuo. “Did you do this?”

 

The blonde hesitated, then raised the cigarette to his lips, took in a deep drag and nodded.

 

The informant furrowed his brow and let his hand fall back by his side. “It’s sloppy work.”

 

“I never claimed to be a doctor,” Shizuo hissed, narrowing his eyes. He took a sip of his drink and then stretched both his arms over the back of the chair. “Shoulda just let you bleed to death.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Izaya asked, blankly. He kept his expression impassive, he didn’t want to let the other man see that he was unnerved. Shizuo was his enemy, a violent monster who he hated with a passion - why was he here, in his home, being cared for by him? _Cared._ Even the thought of the word made him boil with anger. To his surprise, the blonde just shrugged at him and continued to blow smoke at him.

 

“Dunno,” he answered, sounding rather subdued. Izaya pointedly coughed at him, which he ignored. He knew the flea hated cigarettes. “I guess I want to be the one to kill you.”

 

“I see,” the brunette replied, turning his head back up to the ceiling. His anger settled a little upon hearing that answer. “Why don’t you kill me now?”

 

“Wouldn’t be a fair fight,” he laughed, though the laugh sounded forced. “You’re pitiful at the moment, it would be like punching a kitten.”

 

Izaya scowled. “‘Pitiful’? I don’t want your pity, monster.”

 

“Can you just shut up?” Shizuo snapped, clenching his fist at the insult. He stood and moved into the kitchen. Izaya tried to see what he was doing, but couldn’t sit up far enough.

 

“Shizu-chan?” he called, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. The other man was acting so abnormally, it was off-putting, he had no idea what to expect. “What’re you - ugh!”

 

The informant let out a winded gasp when a bag of ice landed on his bare torso. He let out a yelp and pushed it onto the floor as Shizuo moved into his field of vision, clearly amused.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, wiping his hands over his chest. He accidentally pressed down on the swollen hematoma that had risen over his ribs and let out a harsh cry when pain wracked his torso. “Shit-”

 

“Ice pack,” Shizuo replied, flicking his cigarette away. He crouched down next to Izaya, picked up the bag of ice and started to wrap it in a tea-towel. When he moved to place it on the swollen area, the other man started to protest. The blonde rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue derisively. “Look, you got a bunch of broken ribs here, Izaya.”

 

“I’m fine,” he snarled in response, pushing Shizuo’s hand away from him. He didn’t want this, he felt pathetic and weak.

 

Shizuo growled under his breath and grabbed ahold of his flailing wrist, pinning it to the sofa beside his head. Izaya tried to lash out with his free hand, but was halted by the pain caused by his protesting limbs. He went limp and tears of anger started to pool in the corner of his eyes. Shizuo raised an eyebrow but didn’t let go of his wrist.

 

“Calm down,” he ordered, gruffly. “I’m gonna put this on, or else you’ll be in too much pain to move. You want to leave as soon as possible, don’t cha?”

 

Izaya paused and looked away from the other man. “Yes.”

 

“So truce for tonight, okay?” he said. Izaya remained silent, so he reached forward and grabbed the man’s chin with his free hand so that he could turn his head back toward him. The informant hissed as the blonde’s fingers dug into his skin. He glared down at him dangerously and leaned forward. Izaya flinched, his usual confidence suddenly absent. The other man was too close, he could smell the alcohol on his breath. “We can go back to trying to kill each other tomorrow. For now, stop testin’ me.”

 

Shizuo let go of his face so that he could move the ice-pack onto Izaya’s torso. The smaller man let out a sharp gasp and the blonde held the pack firmly when the other writhed in pain.

 

“O-okay,” Izaya gasped, gritting his teeth as the ice started to affect the swollen area. The break in his ribs was making it difficult to breathe easily, so he tried to calm himself. When he steadied his breathing, he glanced back at Shizuo, who was staring at the ice pack blankly.

 

“How is it?” Shizuo asked. He pulled the wrist he was holding forward and placed the other man’s hand over the ice-pack. The blonde stood and moved back to the armchair, grabbing his beer on the way.

 

Izaya grunted uncomfortably. “It hurts, what do you think?”

 

Shizuo chuckled and placed another cigarette in his mouth. “How’d you end up stabbed, anyway?”

 

“I misread the situation,” he answered, after a pause. “More of them than I expected.”

 

“Idiot,” he chided, flicking open his lighter. As he raised the flame to his lips, he noticed Izaya glaring at him. “What?”

 

“Do you ever stop smoking?” he asked, wincing as he adjusted the ice pack.

 

“No, why?”

 

“It’s disgusting. Your insides are probably black as tar.”

 

“So are yours.”

 

Izaya smirked. “Touche.”

 

Shizuo grinned back for a brief moment before both men realised they were smiling and switched to scowling. The blonde took a drag of his smoke and tapped the ash onto the floor.

 

“I’m starving,” Izaya replied. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and retrieved his wallet, which he then threw toward Shizuo. “Use my card, it’s contactless.”

 

“Huh?” the blonde replied, frowning.

 

“Go get food. It’s the least I can do,” the informant answered, smirking. “After all, you’ve been so hospitable.”

 

Shizuo scowled at his sarcastic tone and tucked the wallet into his jeans. “Whatever, flea.”

 

“Something soft and easy to eat,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I doubt you’re the best cook, so takeaway would be perfect.”

 

“Fine,” Shizuo replied. He would have argued if he didn’t know the statement to be entirely true. The blonde usually survived on instant noodles and burnt toast. “Stay here.”

 

“I can’t move.”

 

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

 

Izaya chuckled. He held out his free hand as the blonde started to move, halting him. “Do you have anything to drink?”

 

Shizuo looked toward the kitchen. “Uh, yeah-”

 

“Something stronger than beer?”

 

The ex-bartender smirked and reached into the cupboard beneath the counter in order to retrieve an unlabelled bottle of rum. “Rum, okay?”

 

Izaya pursed his lips. “Rum?”

 

“I like rum.”

 

“It’ll do for now. Get some nicer whiskey or something.”

 

“How nice is nice?”

 

“Something with a label on it?” Izaya retorted, as Shizuo handed him the bottle. He looked at it disdainfully. “Jeez, you really are a monster with no taste, aren’t you?”

 

“Do you want me to kill you?” he hissed, clenching his fist. He turned away from the smug, pale face that he hated so much and grit his teeth together. It would do no good to lash out in anger now and looking at him only stoked the fire.

 

Izaya hummed lightly, pleased to see that he was finally provoking a reaction from the other man. “I would rather you didn’t. It would be a shame to die in a filthy place such as this.”

 

Shizuo swallowed thickly and grabbed his packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. He glanced at the man on his sofa and crossed the room to the front door. He muttered under his breath as he pulled on a jacket. “Stupid fuckin’ flea, shoulda thrown you off that building.”

 

The informant chuckled to himself as the blonde slammed the door shut behind him but winced soon after as the movement elicited a sharp pain in his side. He sighed and repositioned the ice pack again. What trouble this was, he thought. He closed his eyes tiredly. Rest and recuperation were necessary or he could cause himself permanent damage. Namie was out of town, so he couldn’t call her to pick him up and his sisters were never an option. He scrunched his eyes together harder and groaned inwardly. Although the surface wounds would heal quickly, the internal injuries were cripplingly painful and he doubted that he would be able to move without great effort for a couple of days. Effort that he was too exhausted to even consider. He relaxed his facial muscles and licked his dry lips. If Shizuo was going to kill him, he would have done it by now. Izaya didn’t understand the blonde’s reasoning and he certainly wasn’t going to be grateful for the assistance, but he would concede that Shizuo’s timely appearance on the rooftop had probably saved his life. The thought of the other man being his saviour made him feel sick.

 

Izaya opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as a smile started to form on his lips. He would stay until he was certain he had enough strength to move efficiently. After that, he would repay the blonde’s good deed by slitting his throat whilst he slept. The monster would probably be grateful to be put out of his misery.

 

 

  



	2. Say please

 

By the time Shizuo returned, Izaya had fallen asleep. The blonde decided not to wake him immediately and busied himself with washing up plates and cutlery for the food. He poured himself a glass of the scotch he had bought at Izaya’s request - top shelf, very expensive. As the informant himself had said, _it was the least he could do._ Shizuo grinned and took a large gulp of the amber liquid, letting out a satisfied sigh when he felt the sweet burn of high-quality alcohol roll over his tongue. As he drank, he leaned against the counter and observed the flea. It was hard to reconcile his usual image of the indestructible, evil creature with the the mangled thing that was splayed out on his sofa. If it hadn’t been for the slow rising and falling of his chest, Shizuo might have believed that the man had been dropped from a great height and hadn’t survived. His expression was more placid than usual but didn’t reflect peace, even in sleep. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips were slightly parted and drawn down into a frown. Shizuo wondered if Izaya had ever had a moment of heartsease. He imagined that the informant enjoyed his tumultuous life, though he couldn’t understand it. The blonde longed for calm, ease, he longed for the constant rage-filled voices in his head to quieten. He settled the glass next to him on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. What kind of life was Izaya’s? Friendless, loveless, his only aim to cause havoc. He was frantic, never satisfied, never stopping. He must be lonely. Perhaps that was why he never stayed still, perhaps peace made his solitude glaringly obvious. The blonde frowned and plucked a cigarette from his top pocket, lighting it quickly and shoving it in his mouth.

 

Shizuo knew what it was like to be lonely. His immense strength and violent nature forced even his close friends to keep him at arm's length. Despite this, he desperately wanted companionship, close friends, lovers - but he was too afraid to hurt them. A long plume of smoke erupted from between his scowling lips. He didn’t like the idea of having anything in common with the informant. After another moment of staring angrily at the wounded man, he turned and poured another glass of whiskey before refilling his own. He crossed the room and nudged Izaya’s leg with his knee.

 

“Oi,” he grunted, shaking him again. The brunette didn’t move. “Wake up, flea.”

 

Izaya groaned and his eyes fluttered open. He looked confused for a moment, until he saw Shizuo glaring down at him, a glass of whiskey extended in offering.

 

“Shizu-chan,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep.

 

“Stop calling me that,” the larger man grumbled, settling the glass on Izaya’s chest as if he were a table.

 

He grinned and placed his fingers lightly around the rim. “You know I’m still going to, why bother asking?”

 

Shizuo shrugged and took a seat in the armchair opposite. He took a short, sharp sip of his drink. “Dunno. Guess I was hoping you’d gimme a break after I saved your worthless neck.”

 

Izaya chuckled and gulped down a large quantity of his drink. He sighed, happily. “Delicious. Commendable choice.”

 

“I jus’ bought the most expensive thing in the store.”

 

“Heh, predictable,” Izaya replied, lowering the glass until it was on the floor in front of the sofa. “Enjoy the taste of the good life, monster. It’ll probably be the only time you get to experience it.”

 

Shizuo scoffed and drained his glass. “My life is better than yours, asshole.”

 

“You think?” he replied, amused. “I live in a high-end apartment, money is not an obj-”

 

“Material shit aside, what do you have?” the blonde snorted, retrieving the bottle from the coffee table so he could refill his glass. He looked over at Izaya, who was staring blankly back. “Jack shit. Who do you have?”

 

Izaya seemed to hesitate, then a wide, fake smile stretched across his face. “I’ve got all my precious humans.”

 

Shizuo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, flea. You’ll never have _any_ of them, cos you’re not one of them.”

 

The informant’s smile fell. “What?”

 

“C’mon, you ain’t got any friends, your family hate you, hell, people who don’t even know your name want you dead,” he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette. He looked down into his glass, not wanting to look at the informant’s flat, empty expression any longer. “You can hang around with your ‘humans’ all you want, but you won’t ever fit in. They’ll never accept someone like you as one a’ them.”

 

Izaya was silent for a while, staring past Shizuo as if he wasn’t there. Eventually, he turned his head up toward the ceiling. He spoke softly, a voice Shizuo knew was dangerous. “And yet they spend time with a monster like you.”

 

The blonde stiffened. “I’m not a monster.”

 

“And I’m not a flea,” Izaya murmured. He turned his head back and his dark eyes bore into Shizuo’s. “Why do they accept you so readily while I am shunned? I love them, you do nothing but destr-”

 

“Love,” Shizuo laughed, shaking his head. “I think your definition is skewed.”

 

Izaya frowned. “No it’s n-”

 

“Seriously, that’s fucked up,” the bartender said, still chuckling to himself. He grinned, his tone mocking. “I bet you never get laid.”

 

The brunette’s eyes narrowed and Shizuo noticed his fist clenched at his side. Interesting, he thought, that seemed to hit a nerve.

 

“If we’re going to have a girl’s night in gossiping about our sex lives, Shizu-chan, I’m going to need some more alcohol and some chocolate,” Izaya hissed, venom lacing his tone.

 

Shizuo snorted. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and smiled, eyes glinting playfully. “Virgin.”

 

Izaya moved quickly for a wounded man, picking up the glass he had settled on the floor and throwing it at the blonde’s head. He dodged it swiftly and it smashed on the wall behind him. Shizuo stood, letting out an irritated growl.

 

“Watch it, flea! For fuck’s sake!”

 

“I hate you, you stupid proto-”

 

“That’s it!”

 

Shizuo flung himself over the table, knocking his glass of whiskey onto the floor, where it spilled and stained the carpet. Izaya screeched when the blonde gripped his shoulder and flipped him onto the floor, straddling his waist and taking the other man’s throat in his large palm. The brunette tried to scratch his chest but ended up grabbing fistfuls of his sweater with one hand, whilst the other was pinned beside his head.

 

“Stop fucking testing me you little cunt,” Shizuo seethed, squeezing the other man’s throat warningly. “I thought you didn’t want to die here.”

 

“Get off me!” Izaya responded, nearly spitting in the blonde’s face. His body was in agony from the rough treatment and it brought tears to his eyes.

 

“Izaya, I swear - stop fucking moving or I will end up strangling you,” Shizuo growled, desperately trying to restrain himself. As he looked down at his enemy, as he felt his strangely lithe body writhing between his thighs, he felt something out of place, something that made the hand on the other man’s throat loosen slightly. Izaya started coughing violently and a foul splatter of blood flew from his mouth and hit Shizuo’s cheek.

 

“Get...get off,” he wheezed, now clutching at the other man’s shirt in desperation, as if he needed something to hold on to to stop himself from going under. “I-I-”

 

“Fuck,” Shizuo mumbled, letting go of the man’s neck and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees up so his weight was no longer pressed onto his body. He wiped the blood off Izaya’s chin with his thumb. “Calm down, breathe.”

 

The smaller man seemed to be unable to take a complete breath, each intake was a struggle. There was one, two, then the brunette gasped and his breathing slowed. Shameful tears streamed down his reddened cheeks from watery, hate-filled eyes. His hands still clutched Shizuo’s shirt tightly.

 

“Breathe, Izaya,” the blonde said, in as soothing tone as he could manage. “There we go.”

 

“Get off,” Izaya panted, cringing in pain. Shizuo could already see bruises blossoming as red stains on his throat. He was so much stronger than he intended to be, it was a surprise he hadn't completely crushed Izaya’s windpipe. “You're...you're hurting m-me.”

 

Shizuo narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer, only a breath away from the brunette’s cheek. He wanted to make his point clear, he wanted the other man to _listen._

 

“Weak,” he hissed, lip curling into a smirk. “Aren’t you?”

 

“No,” Izaya replied, hoarsely. He turned his head so that he looked straight in his eye. At this proximity, with the other’s warm, sinewy body so close to his own, the informant too felt something strangely out of place, something that intrigued and disgusted him.

 

As the strange thought struck the both of them, they stared closely at one another, until Shizuo turned his head and sighed. He pushed himself off Izaya and knelt so that he could tuck his hands underneath the other man’s knees and shoulders. Izaya protested as he was hoisted into the air and his breath was knocked out again.

 

“W-what,” he wheezed, trying to hold back from coughing. “What are you doing?”

 

“You can eat in the morning, flea,” Shizuo said, gruffly. He held onto the struggling creature in his arms tightly so he wouldn't fall. “You're obviously tired an’ I'm just gonna hurt you further if you stay out here.”

 

“I don't want to sleep in your bed, you pig!” Izaya wailed, nearly incoherent from the mixture of panic and pain. “Put me down, now!”

 

Shizuo pushed opened his bedroom door with his shoulder and dropped the informant onto his bed, his fall softened by the many layers of blankets that covered the mattress. The smaller man keened as his ribs protested at the treatment and his body began to tremble again. The blonde eyed him carefully, uncertain of how to proceed. He didn't want a dead Izaya on his hands tonight, not while he was half-drunk and hungry.

 

“Do you want anything?” he asked, quietly.

 

Izaya had managed to slow his breathing and glanced sideways at his enemy. “Just fuck off and let me sleep.”

 

“Fine by me.”

 

“I like to lie in so don't disturb me until I disturb you.”

 

“I have work early any-,” Shizuo paused, remembering the gunshot that had pierced his friend’s flesh. “Ah, no I don't.”

 

“You have a job?” Izaya snorted, rudely. He winced as he adjusted himself so his head rested on a pillow. “Colour me surprised. I thought I managed to get you fired from all your jobs, I must try harder.”

 

“Shut up, flea,” he answered, coldly. Shizuo crossed the room and flung open a drawer, so that he could rummage through the contents. He turned and threw an old t-shirt at Izaya. “There, if you get cold or whatever.”

 

“Is this yours?” the informant sneered, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“Burn it when you’re done with it,” Shizuo grumbled, heading for the door.

 

“It looks a little big,” Izaya mocked, dropping it back onto the bed. “Plus, I’d rather wear a shirt that was on fire than one that had touched you.”

 

The blonde growled and slammed the door to the bedroom shut behind him, muffling the sound of Izaya’s breathy laughter. His only solace was the knowledge that laughing would hurt the other man’s lungs in his current condition. Shizuo walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, choosing to drink straight from it rather than another glass.

 

“Shoulda killed him, I shoulda fucking killed him,” he chanted to himself, over and over, until he calmed down. Shizuo grabbed a bag of potato chips, switched on the TV and settled on the armchair. He had to get his mind off the arrogant prick who was currently in his bed or he would drive himself to frustration. Nothing else to do but get drunk of his mind and watch cartoons, he thought, uncorking the bottle.

 

-0-

 

Izaya couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t certain if it was the smell of the monster on the sheets or the pain, but he had spent the last two hours staring at the ceiling, half-listening to the sound of the television in the room next-door. Shizuo was either watching a comedy, or he was drunk, as rowdy laughter repeatedly sounded much to the informant’s annoyance. The clock on the wall told him it was eight-fifteen and his stomach was growling. He tried to ignore the quiet gurgles coming from his abdomen - he didn’t want to have to ask _him_ for food. The man scowled and wondered if he should just storm out, steal some food and the whiskey and lock himself in the bedroom. The cool of the summer evening was starting to sink into his skin and for a moment he considered donning the t-shirt that had been left for him, though he quickly abandoned that thought. Ridiculous! That he should have to wear the rags of a monster.

 

His mind drifted to Shizuo, to the odd moment he experienced earlier. The monster had been so warm. From that close proximity the smell of cigarettes had been pleasant as it was mixed with the earthy scent of the blonde’s cologne and the rich alcohol on his breath. Even with that vicious look on his face, he was physically attractive, that was undeniable. Perhaps that was the reason people seemed to gravitate toward him - his pleasing features, his open demeanor. Shizuo was honest, if nothing else - he’d never attempted to hide his feelings for the informant, his hatred there was clear. The monster was so obvious, so easy to read - which is why he had seen the odd glint in his eye when he had called him _weak._ Izaya swallowed thickly - why was he thinking about the stupid animal like that? There was _nothing_ attractive about him.

 

A peal of raucous laughter shattered his peace once again, causing a vein to throb in his forehead. He would kill that idiot if it was the last thing he did. Pain shot down his side and he let out a grunt. Being tossed around the room like a ragdoll had surely worsened his injuries. He peered down at the hematoma on his side and grimaced - he hoped that it wasn’t bleeding internally, that would be inconvenient. His stomach grumbled again, louder this time. Izaya frowned and slowly began to push himself upright, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Everything hurt, every moment was agony.

 

With a pained grunt, the informant stood, his arms hugging his torso tightly as if his organs would spill out. It took great effort, but he managed to reach the door and kick it open. Shizuo was lounging in the armchair, legs hanging off one side, a bag of crisps in his lap. If he was surprised to see the other man awake, it didn’t show.

 

“What do you want, flea?” he asked, scowling. He took a swig of whiskey from the bottle and wiped his lips with his sleeve.

 

Izaya remained silent, just staring at him. Shizuo noted the way his shoulders were shaking slightly - clearly he was cold but refusing to wear the shirt he gave him. The blonde looked back at the television, starting to get a little creeped out by the way he was staring. It wasn’t his problem.

 

“I’m hungry,” the brunette said, at last. He leaned against the doorframe and let out a deep breath. “I want food.”

 

“Fridge,” Shizuo responded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

 

Izaya frowned. “Aren’t you going to get it for me?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“I can barely move.”

 

The blonde raised the whiskey to his lips and chuckled. “Not my problem.”

 

“Yes it is,” the informant snapped, surprised by how whiny his tone was coming out. “You made my injuries worse.”

 

“So?”

 

“So?” Izaya hissed, his cheeks flushing the more irritated he grew. “So go make me some fucking food.”

 

Shizuo grinned, much to the other man’s surprise. He set the bottle on the floor and turned his body so that he could swing his feet back onto the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his chin drop onto his hand.

 

“Say please, you little brat.”

 

“In your dreams,” Izaya balked and rolled his eyes. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and started to move slowly across the living room toward the kitchen. The man was visibly in great pain and after only a few steps he started to wheeze.

 

Shizuo sighed and got to his feet, walking over to the informant and halting his progress. He leaned down to the other’s height so that he could look him in the eye. Izaya winced uncomfortably and stepped back on one foot, trying to expand the distance between them.

 

“Say please, Iz-a-ya,” the blonde chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. He wanted to break the crippled man completely.

 

Izaya opened his mouth, then closed it again silently. He hated the way the monster sang his name in that deep baritone of his. He glared at the other for a moment before taking in a rattled breath. “Please.”

 

“Good. We might make a decent person out of you, yet,” the blonde smirked and stood upright. He laid a hand on an uninjured portion of collarbone and pushed the informant backward. “Sit down.”

 

As the brunette made his way slowly toward the sofa, Shizuo set about the kitchen. He placed the takeaway curry he had picked up into the oven and poured a bag of rice into a pan. The sound of crunching drew his attention back to Izaya. He had finally taken a seat on the sofa and was watching Shizuo, one hand clutching the bottle and the other in the bag of chips. He had a unusually happy smile on his face.

 

“I love Dortios,” he said, raising a chip to his mouth and happily munching it down. It hurt to swallow slightly, but he was so hungry he ignored the pain. “Do you really need to use a whole bag of rice?”

 

“I eat a lot,” the blonde replied, turning the hob onto a low heat.

 

“Predictably,” Izaya replied. He took a sip from the bottle and gulped as the liquid burned his throat. “How did you manage to drink half a litre of this?”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked. He grabbed a beer and moved across the room, back to his armchair.

 

“Well, you don’t seem wasted,” Izaya commented, shaking his head. “I’d be on the floor.”

 

Shizuo chuckled lightly and rested his cheek on his fist. “Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“You’re acting normal,” Shizuo mumbled, cracking open his beer.

 

“You say that as if-”

 

“As if you’re not normal? No, you’re a freak, Izaya. You must know that.”

 

The informant glared at him and took another sip of whiskey. He winced slightly at the taste. “Why do you hate me?”

 

Shizuo raised his eyebrows. “Do you even have to ask?”

 

Izaya nodded and lowered the bottle to the ground. He was only a small man and thus his tolerance for alcohol was rather low. Even the few gulps he had taken were going straight to his head. “Yeah, what have I done?”

 

“Aside from constantly tryin’ to ruin my life?” Shizuo growled. The informant looked at him through bleary eyes and smiled. “You’re an awful person, Izaya. You lie, cheat and steal to get your own way and you’ve hurt so many. An’ I don’t even know what your end goal is with all this. I think you just like fuckin’ with people.”

 

“True enough,” the brunette replied, maneuvering his body carefully so that he was stretched out on the sofa, with his head resting against one of the arms.

 

“Bastard,” Shizuo spat, brows furrowing in anger.

 

“You’re hardly any better,” Izaya responded, turning his head so he could smile at Shizuo. He could tell the other man was seething from the way his hands shook around his beer. “You’ve hurt people too, people who didn’t deserve it. And that wasn’t even for your own enjoyment, that was just because you’re incapable of controlling yourself. What a disappointment you must be to the stupid people who like you.”

 

Shizuo pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself. When he opened his eyes, Izaya could see pain. He liked that look on the blonde, it sent a pleasant flutter through his stomach. The monster deserved to suffer and he was more than happy to be the one to deal the hurt.

 

“Well, here we are,” Shizuo sighed, holding out his beer. “The most hated people in the city.”

 

Izaya smiled wryly and inclined his head. He lifted the bottle of whiskey with a slight grunt of pain. “Perhaps we deserve this personal hell we’ve created for one another.”

 

The blonde took a sip of his drink and shrugged, tiredly. “It’s your fault this is still going on, flea. I’d be happy if you just left me alone and stayed outta the city.”

 

“You know I can’t do that,” Izaya laughed, eyes sparkling playfully. “I love this city. There is so much fun between these skyscrapers.”

 

“Why do you always get involved in my life?” Shizuo asked, sounding exasperated. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

 

Izaya frowned, mulling over the question in his mind. He turned his head back to the ceiling and searched the smoke-stained paint for patterns. Why did he pursue Shizuo so relentlessly?

 

“Various reasons, I suppose,” he answered, slowly. “You’re a monster, you don’t deserve friends and family and a pleasant life. Your less than an animal, posturing amongst humans and _fitting in._ Like you belong. Like you’re one of them. But you’re not - you’re a beast, a piece of filth that’s worth less than the shit on a human’s shoe. Such violence should only be rewarded with suffering.”

 

Shizuo stayed silent but the hurt was obvious in his yellow eyes. Izaya _really_ liked it. This was far better than any physical pain he had ever caused.

 

“And you know something?” Izaya continued, viciously. “Ruining your life makes me _so happy_.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	3. Purpose and humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments and kudos, I really appreciate them! Next part coming soon.

Shizuo could see the informant, but he couldn't hear him. Blood pounded in his ears, heavy and hot, and he could feel his hands trembling around the can of beer he still held. Izaya’s snide remarks rang clear, over and over, each barb piercing his fragile mind and tearing at his self worth.

 

 _Useless. Worthless. Violent. Animal._ **_Monster._ **

 

The informant’s favourite insult was the most hurtful - he had spent so many years trying to convince himself that he was not a beast or a villain. He had found comfort, telling himself that he was worth something, he had purpose and humanity. How easily Izaya could destroy that  carefully created peace. He raised his head, eyes looking past the other man distantly. Rage swelled inside of him intensely but instead of lashing out he felt almost immobilised by it.

 

“You’re sick,” he murmured, not wanting to look at the informant’s smug face but finding it unavoidable. “Insane.”

 

Izaya smirked and let out a low chuckle. “I’m just trying to show the world what a monster you really are, Shizu-chan.”

 

The blonde shook his head and let out a gruff sigh. He stood and stepped over the coffee table so that he towered above Izaya. “Life would be a lot easier if I snapped your neck right now.”

 

“Go ahead,” he replied, tilting his head so that his throat was bared. He gave Shizuo a nasty grin and his shiny eyes narrowed. “You’d only be proving my point.”

 

He looked down at the pale neck being offered up to him. The temptation to place his hand over it and squeezed until Izaya’s face turned purple or he felt a crack beneath his palm was strong. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, willing the pleasing image of choking the other man to death out of his mind.

 

“Pathetic,” Izaya laughed, placing his hands over his tummy. “You're absolutely useless, aren't you? A dumb beast through and through.”

 

Shizuo frowned and moved to the kitchen, out of Izaya’s sight. He switched off the oven and picked up the unopened packet of cigarettes on the counter. The informant tried to turn his head to look at him but had trouble due to the pain in his side.

 

“Nothing to say?” he called, laughing lightly. He ignored the slight feeling of panic caused by Shizuo’s silence. He was expecting anger, that’s what he was trying to draw out- he wanted the monster to feel ashamed of himself.

 

The blonde moved back into his field of vision and crouched at his side. His expression was blank, which unnerved the brunette. Shizuo shuffled forward so that he could lean in close to Izaya’s ear. The fury he felt was searing hot but he felt oddly in control of it at that moment.

 

“You’re an idiot, Orihara,” he spoke lowly and the warm breath from his mouth sent a shiver down Izaya’s spine. “I could kill you quietly and drop your worthless corpse somewhere no-one will find it. Not that I imagine anyone would be looking. Who would look for a maggot such as you?”

 

Izaya swallowed, finding his mouth suddenly very dry. Don’t let him get to you, he thought, he’s nothing compared to you. He forced a grin to his face. “Fuck yo-”

 

_The rage snapped._

 

Shizuo slammed his hand down over the informant’s mouth and squeezed his jaw roughly. The brunette’s eyes widened above the suffocating pressure and he raised his hands to grip at the offending fingers. He halted his actions when he felt a jolt of pain from the centre of his torso and he let out a muffled cry into the hand over his lips. When the pain faded, he looked down and saw Shizuo’s other hand resting lightly on his chest. He looked back at the monster’s face and narrowed his eyes in anger as he raised his hands to claw at the fingers still over his mouth. The blonde sighed and dug his fingers into another wound, making the informant twist and screech in pain. Izaya felt tears pooling in the corner of his eye - it hurt, it hurt so much. The monster’s fingers were so strong, he couldn’t get away from them no matter how hard he tried. Shizuo was ignoring his cries of agony and continued his assault, stabbing  into reopened wounds and bruises without care. Izaya’s already-aching limbs were screaming in protest as he twisted and his hips bucked into the air. One hand continued to try and pry the fingers from his mouth while the other reached up and attempted to claw Shizuo’s face - both actions gained little result.

 

“You don’t seem ‘ta realise the situation you’re in, Iz-a-ya,” Shizuo murmured. A slight smile pulled at the corner of his mouth when he thrust his forefinger into a bloody tear below the other man’s pectoral. When he pulled it back, Izaya’s blood stained his fingertip. Slowly, he curled his hand into a fist. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

 

He grinned and brought his clenched fist down onto Izaya’s chest. It wasn’t hard enough to cause any permanent damage, but the force was more than enough to knock the wind out of the smaller man and send bile shooting up his esophagus. Izaya’s muffled scream was more of a gurgle this time and he could feel saliva drenching his palm. Shizuo looked away from the bloodied torso back at the man’s face and was pleased to see that his face had flushed red and tears were freely streaming down his cheeks. He’d barely needed to use any strength to have Izaya sobbing like a child beneath him. The pain in the man’s burgundy eyes was satisfying and Shizuo felt a rush of pleasure run through him.

 

“But you’ll wish you were dead by the time I’m done,” he continued, finally removing his hand from the informant’s mouth. His lips were trembling, his chin coated in a mix of saliva and blood that had drooled out amidst his screams. “Shinra was right - _there’s not a single ounce of goodness in you_.”

 

“Don’t-” Izaya groaned. He didn’t want to hear such lies from the mouth of the beast.  “Shinra - agh - ‘s my f-friend.”

 

The blonde tilted his head to one side and gave him a dark scowl. Clearly that was a touchy topic. He knew that Shinra was fond of Izaya, often defending his awful actions to Shizuo and Celty, but he didn’t know the friendship was returned. “You don’t have any friends.”

 

Shizuo unclenched his fist and laid it flat against the man’s chest, softly skimming his fingers over the skin beneath. He pressed down lightly, right over the largest bruise on his broken ribs and continued to apply pressure until Izaya’s watery eyes widened. The informant raised a limp hand and placed it over Shizuo’s.

 

“Stop,” he croaked, ashamed by the way his voice was wavering.

 

“Why should I?” Shizuo snapped, rage finally seeping into his voice. “When have you ever shown any mercy?”

 

Izaya shrieked and screwed his eyes shut when he felt the weight of Shizuo’s hand press deeper into his body. He had never known pain like this, even being stabbed was more bearable. His mind was hazy from the physical torment but he tried to think of something, anything, that would get the beast off of him before he damaged him irreparably. He didn’t want to yield, he wanted to kill the monster now more than ever but he couldn’t do that if he remained in this state. A little lie, he thought, just a little lie to save myself. It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t prove weakness.

 

“Stop, please,” he sobbed, letting the hand that had been trying to remove Shizuo’s crushing hand flop beside him. “Please, Shizuo, I’m sorry. Just stop, agh - please!”

 

The blonde looked down at him, his eyes wild and his teeth bared, but the pressure didn’t grow any stronger. After a moment, the man let out a deep breath and removed his hand from Izaya’s body. The informant was still weeping, his face scrunched up, red and ugly. There was diluted blood and spit all over his face and on his collarbone where it had dripped from his mouth. There was more on his torso - thicker, brighter stuff that was oozing from the places the blonde had dug his fingers into. Shizuo watched him closely as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, then scrubbed the tears away. Izaya glared at him and tried to calm the small sobs that caused his chest to tremble.

 

“You wanna get better and get outta here, right?” Shizuo asked, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Is that even a question, protozoan? Of course I do.”

 

“Then stop testing me,” he retorted, matching Izaya’s glare. “Try and act like a decent human being while you’re in my house.”

 

“Huh, that’s rich coming from a monster like y-” he trailed off when Shizuo placed his hand back over his chest as a warning. Izaya laughed nervously and raised his hands in defence. “I kid, I kid.”

 

The blonde drew his hand back and stood, removing a cigarette from his top pocket. He placed it in his mouth and lit the end, looking down at the informant with distaste. “This is the last time I’ll say it. Play nice and I won’t have to do shit like this to you. When you’re runnin’ your mouth all I wanna do is-”

 

He paused, then ran a hand through his hair and took a long drag of his cigarette. Izaya smirked and shifted slightly on the sofa to make himself more comfortable, which was difficult considering the amount of pain he was in.

 

“Hurt me?” the brunette finished, raising a brow.

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo responded, coldly. The rage had faded from his eyes and now they looked dull and empty. “You’re the one who turns me into a monster.”

 

Izaya chuckled lightly. “You’ve always been a monster, Shizu-chan, but you’ve learned to hide it. I’m just the one who pries off the mask so that everyone can see your true face.”

 

The larger man grunted and took a seat on the bar stool in front of the counter. “Look, I don’t actively try to destroy people’s lives like you do, I just can’t control my temper.”

 

“The results are the same, aren’t they? People get hurt, places get ruined. Who cares about the motive?”

 

“The people gettin’ hurt?”

 

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Nope. They just care about whether or not their lives are upset - they don’t give a damn about the motivation of the one causing said upset. Be it through your unbridled temper, or my calculated doings. To them, we are both evil. It’s always ‘why is this happening to _me_ ?’ instead of ‘why is _he_ doing this?’. Humans can be so selfish.”

 

“I hate you, flea.”

 

“I know.”

 

Shizuo shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. His gaze rested on the informant’s torso, where seeping wounds were beginning to crust. Now that he had calmed down, the sight of all the blood was making him feel sick. He sighed, smoke pluming from between his lips.

 

“Are you gonna behave?” he asked, with a frown. “Cos’ I don’t think your body will take another round.”

 

Izaya smiled weakly. “Yes, Shizu-chan. I’ll behave.”

 

The blonde seemed to relax slightly, much to Izaya’s irritation. He stood and moved back into the kitchen in order to prepare their food. The informant watched his back with a vicious scowl on his face. The monster believed that he had broken him into submission - what a farce! He would just have to wait and _play nice_ until he could move with more ease then he’d teach the beast a lesson he would never forget. You’ll wish you were dead by the time I’m done, he thought, harking back to Shizuo’s earlier threat. When the blonde turned to face him, two bowls in his hands, Izaya’s scowl shifted into a pathetic smile. Play the part, he told himself, let him think he’s got you beat. Shizuo placed the bowls down on the coffee table and knelt down at Izaya’s side. When he placed a hand on the informant’s shoulder the smaller man stiffened.

 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, pulling his shoulder gently. “You gotta sit up so you can eat.”

 

Izaya grimaced and let out a small cry as Shizuo moved his torso up and placed a pillow behind his back so that he was sat upright, legs still stretched out in front of him. “F-fuck, ow.”

 

“Sorry,” Shizuo said, passing him the bowl of curry. “S’your own fault.”

 

The informant glared at him. “I didn’t ask for you to beat me half to death.”

 

“Izaya,” he growled, warningly. The brunette turned his head away and looked down at the curry, face flushing in anger. Shizuo stood, grabbed his bowl and sat back at the counter. “Eat.”

 

The injured man picked up the fork in the bowl and raised a mouthful of food to his lips. How long had it been since he’d eaten a proper meal? It must have been a while, probably not since dinner with Namie a few nights ago. He’d snacked on a few small things here and there but the informant mainly survived on coffee, which was a shame as he adored food. It didn’t take him long to scoff down the curry and soon he let the fork clatter into the empty bowl.

 

“Delicious,” he sighed, happily. He placed his hands over his stomach. A pleasant warmth spread throughout his body and he felt oddly content. Probably due to the lack of sleep, food and good health, he thought.

 

“Good,” Shizuo commented, standing so that he could retrieve Izaya’s empty bowl. “But if you eat that fast you’ll get indigestion.”

 

“Thanks, Mum,” Izaya teased. He yawned and his eyes half-closed tiredly.

 

Shizuo finished his meal in silence, then washed up the dirty bowls. When he turned back, the brunette was asleep. He sighed - what a mess. He moved across the kitchen and pondered what to do with the other man. Izaya was filthy, but he doubted he would be able to stand for long in the shower and the apartment didn’t have a bath. The blonde crouched down beside the sofa and gently prodded the other man’s arm. He opened his eyes slowly, clearly exhausted and in pain.

 

“What?” he asked, flatly. He was so tired that he could barely muster the strength to sound annoyed.

 

Shizuo’s face reddened. “Your wounds.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“They need cleaning.”

 

Izaya grimaced as he looked down at his abused chest. “Yeah, they do. Have you got a bath?”

 

“‘No.”

 

“Shower?”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo nodded. “Will you be okay to uh, y’know…”

 

The informant looked at him blankly. “What?”

 

Shizuo looked down at his hands. “Well you don't seem to be able to stand for very long by yourself. So I thought-”

 

Izaya smirked and raised a brow. “If you're so desperate to get me naked all you have to do is ask.”

 

The blonde’s face seemed to turn purple. “I didn't mean-”

 

“I know what you mean, idiot,” the smaller man snorted, shaking his head incredulously. “I’ll be fine. But I will need a towel.”

 

Shizuo stood, apparently still flustered. “Yeah sure, they're on the rack in the bathroom.”

 

Izaya nodded and held out his arm with a sigh. “As much as I hate this, could you please help me up? Your assault has made moving even more difficult.”

 

The blonde blinked, in slight disbelief that Izaya was asking for his help. He took hold of the informant’s arm and let the other man use him as support as he stood. It clearly wasn't easy, as Izaya moved slowly and let out sharp hisses of pain during the short walk to the bathroom. Shizuo let the other man go when he was propped up against the sink.

 

“Towels over there,” he said, pointing to a small wooden rack. “Just press the button to turn it on and the dial-”

 

“I know how a shower works.”  

 

Shizuo stared at him, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Don't call if you need anything.”  

 

The blonde stomped out, slamming the door behind him. Izaya let out a pained sigh as he pushed himself away from the sink. He needed a shower, needed to wash away the dirt on his skin and the blood that was drying in his hair and on his torso. He needed to get rid of the phantom fingers digging into his chest and his throat.

After switching on the shower, the informant gently pulled off his trousers, grunting in pain as his body protested the actions. He caught an unwanted glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink - he looked awful. His eyes were circled by dark shadows and his skin was dirty and grey. Red flecks were crusted in his hair and a small stream had dried down the side of his face, stretching to his jaw. He examined his torso momentarily, but found bile rising in his throat as he studied the wounds. A large number of red welts were embedded in his skin, ragged tears surrounded by emerging blue-black bruises. Larger discoloured contusions stained one of his sides - he knew what they had been caused by. Three swift, severe blows from a man’s boot. Then there was the fresh, purple marks blossoming around his mouth and throat. He winced at the memory, the way the blonde’s eyes had glinted with excitement as he screamed. Izaya gently pressed against the front of his chest, hissing in pain when he moved over a particularly swollen area. He would need another ice-pack after a shower.

The man entered the shower and closed the glass door behind him, sighing gently as the warm water hit his sore skin. He leaned against the side of the cubicle to support himself. After a few minutes, he began to relax, letting the heat wash away the grime and the blood and the memories of the day. The aches began to dull, though he knew as soon as he left the shower they would resurface - they’d certainly be worse tomorrow. The water caused the stab wounds to flare and sting, but at least they were clean. Izaya closed his eyes as he shampooed his hair. The image of a smirk and a pair of golden eyes filled his mind, causing panic to twist his stomach. He opened his eyes and shut off the shower, trying to ignore the image and the way his heart was racing. A wave of nausea hit him. Since when had he been afraid of Shizuo? He gently ran his hands across his chest, wiping away the more stubborn scabs. It wouldn’t be cowardly to be afraid of the beast, but he had never felt like this toward the other man before. So small - so utterly human. Izaya closed his eyes and pressed his face forward directly into the stream of water.

 

_Weak. Aren’t you?_

 

Perhaps it wasn’t fear, he mused, perhaps it was something he didn’t understand. He thought back on the way Shizuo had leaned over him. He had trembled then because the monster’s body had been so close, because he’d been able to feel the warmth of the other man’s skin through his shirt. But he hadn’t been afraid, not in the traditional sense at least. He opened his eyes. No, he had been afraid of the unfamiliar drop in his stomach.

With an irritated grunt, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, running it over his head then wrapping it around his waist. His body still ached, and blood was dripping from the open wounds, but he felt marginally better. He cast the unwanted thoughts from his head and looked around the sparse bathroom for a first aid kit. Frowning, he moved to the closed door.

 

“Shizu-chan,” he called, in a sing-song voice. He pulled on his boxers and frowned when he received no reply. “Oi, monster!”

 

The door swung open and smacked against the bathroom wall with a loud crash. Shizuo stood in the frame with his hand flat against the door. His brows were furrowed in frustration, though they soon shot up into the air when he saw that Izaya was only clad in his boxers. He quickly looked away and lowered his hand.

 

“What?”

 

Izaya scowled, more at the feeling of a blush heating his own cheeks than Shizuo’s reaction. “I need a first aid kit.”

 

“Oh, uh - sure,” the blonde replied, turning away. “Let me get it.”

 

The informant limped into the living room after him and eased his broken body down onto the bar stool. Shizuo returned from his bedroom and placed a large plastic ziploc full of first aid equipment down on the counter. He eyed the brunette closely, which made the other man feel uncomfortably warm. The blonde held out his other arm and pushed a set of clothes into Izaya’s hands.

 

“Put those on,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “S’better than having to walk around half-naked, right?”

 

Izaya nodded silently. He slowly pulled on the pair of sweatpants Shizuo had provided and tightened the drawstring around his waist, as they were too big. The bleeding wounds needing patching up before he donned the t-shirt, so he set it down on the counter next to the first aid kit, which he began searching through. He started to unwind the now-damp bandage on his shoulder but found himself unable to turn his torso sufficiently without pain. Exhausted, and more than a little annoyed, he looked over at the blonde who was picking up the pieces of shattered glass from the floor.

 

“Shizu-chan,” he called, slowly. The other man looked up from the floor at him. “Could you- ugh, could you take this off my shoulder?”

 

Shizuo looked at him blankly, then stood. He crossed the room so that he could throw away the broken glass then sat down on the bar stool next to Izaya. He observed the other man for a moment, then started to gently unbind the bandage on his shoulder.

 

“I'll need to disinfect this again,” he said, taking hold of the other’s bicep so that he could raise his arm gently.

 

Izaya tried to fix his gaze on the other side of the room and ignore the warmth of the blonde’s fingertips as they skimmed over his skin. Why was it pleasant, he mused, this was the man who had just assaulted him, whom he hated more than any other. It was strange, he thought, glancing back at the beast. Strange, but intriguing.

 

“Shizuo,” he said, softly.

 

The larger man looked up from his work, one brow raised. “Yeah?”

 

Izaya rolled his head to one side. “We both show the same glee when the other is in pain. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Dunno,” Shizuo replied, peeling off the last of the bandage. He placed the bloody rag down on the counter and reached for the miniature bottle of antiseptic in the ziploc. It was only a small amount, hence why he had chosen to use vodka the first time around. “Probably ‘cause we hate each other.”

 

“Mmm. I think I may be starting to understand,” Izaya murmured.

 

The informant’s eyes grew hazy and he fell silent, much to the blonde’s surprise. He poured the antiseptic onto a clean wipe and paused before he let it touch the wound.

 

“This may hurt,” he warned.

 

Izaya turned his head and looked him in the eye. “Can't be more painful than the last time you touched me.”

 

Shizuo visibly tensed, then pressed the wipe against the wound. Izaya groaned as the liquid sizzled against the jagged hole, but grit his teeth together to keep the sound inside his mouth. The larger man swallowed as his stomach filled with butterflies. Izaya had been right, Shizuo was pleased by the little moans of discomfort escaping him. They were nothing compared to the cries from earlier, though.

 

“Almost done,” the blonde assured, dragging the fabric slowly around the stab wound. He peered up at the brunette, who had his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He liked that look on him, it was so pathetic. “So what are you understanding?”

 

“I- ah, fuck. It's nothing,” he growled, eyes watering. “Are you almost done?”

 

Shizuo debated taunting the other man for his weakness, but decided to let this one slide. He drew back the bloody cloth and nodded. “Yeah, all done.”

 

“Thanks,” Izaya said, before he could stop himself.

 

“Uh, sure,” the blonde replied, slightly startled. “You want me to put another one on?”

 

“Just a gauze and some tape will be fine,” the informant responded. “It needs to breathe.”

 

They sat in silence as Shizuo started to rustle around in the ziploc for a sheet of gauze. Izaya stared intensely at the floor, his thoughts racing with realisation. He groaned loudly and ran both his hands through his hair, though the action caused him pain.

 

“You okay?” Shizuo asked, as he unrolled the gauze.

 

“No, this is so ridiculous,” Izaya mumbled, barely audible. “Fucking stupid.”

 

“Speak up, flea. I can't hear ya,” he said, opening the counter drawer to find a pair of scissors. He held them up to cut the gauze and saw Izaya staring at him. “What?”

 

The informant wasn't staring at him, he was staring at the scissors in his hand. Shizuo pursed his lips and set them back on the counter.

 

“They're for cutting the gauze idiot, I'm not gonna-,” he sighed, pushing them toward Izaya. “Do it yourself.”

 

Izaya looked up at him until the blonde felt uncomfortable enough to turn away. He paused his motions when he felt a cold hand settle on his shoulder. Shizuo swallowed thickly and glanced back at the other man, who was still watching him intently with an uncertain look on his face. His usually snide expression was absent and replaced by one of agitation, skittish almost. The brunette froze for a moment, confused by his own action. Eventually, he lowered his hand.

 

“What are you doin’?” Shizuo asked, weakly.

 

“I-” Izaya began. He didn’t know what he was doing. He felt so small. “I need you to do it. I can’t see the wound well enough and it’s hard to raise my arms and keep them steady.”

 

Shizuo seemed to relax at his answer, as if he had been anticipating something else. He nodded and picked up the scissors so that he could cut a small section of gauze. Izaya kept his eyes focused on the television as the blonde placed the fabric over the deep stab wound and began to tape it securely to his shoulder. It hurt, but the monster was being strangely gentle. The informant felt his cheeks heat up again - there was that aggravating feeling again, that drop in his stomach. There was no way, he thought, no way. Not Shizuo, not the monster, not the man he hated so much. He shut his eyes and tried not to muse on the impossible.

 

“Am I hurting you?” Shizuo asked, frowning at the smaller man’s reaction as he continued to tape up the wound.

 

Izaya opened his eyes and glanced up at the blonde. A wry smile rose on his lips. “Yes, Shizu-chan. You are.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. The monster's bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, I take each one into account! 
> 
> Not much happens in this one I'm afraid, but it was getting too long so I've had to split the next bit into part five (which will be coming soon).
> 
> Happy reading.

They didn’t speak much after that. Shizuo let Izaya sleep in his bed, thinking it would be more comfortable for the man’s injured body than the pullout sofa-bed. His room was also on the opposite side of the house to the front door so the informant would have to pass Shizuo if he tried to escape. The blonde didn’t think that he would be able to even if he tried.

 

The clock chimed ten. When Shizuo poked his head around the bedroom door to check on Izaya before retiring himself, the smaller man was already lost in fitful dreams.

 

-0-

 

_When did he lose control? He didn’t get caught, he never got got caught._

 

_Izaya recognised the taste of blood in his mouth. It seemed to be flowing from the cut on the inside of his cheek but for all he knew it could have been from the split in his lower lip. The familiar black shoe slammed into his ribs again and he felt something crack. Izaya let out another strangled cry and settled his head against the ground, too exhausted and pained to move any longer._

 

_“Pathetic.”_

 

_He opened his eyes as he felt a hand dig into his hair and tug the strands roughly upward, forcing Izaya to raise his head. The monster was crouching and looked down at him with that familiar scowl, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. Ash crumbled onto the informant’s face and the heat stung. Izaya conjured a pained smirk, one he knew would aggravate the other man even more._

 

_“Beast,” he hissed, chuckling darkly._

 

_Shizuo released his hair and let his head drop back to the ground. Swiftly, he straddled the injured man and encased his throat with a large hand. Izaya stiffened - he didn’t want to die but the knowledge that the monster would finally show its ugly face to the world was consolation. He closed his eyes as the pressure started to push against his windpipe. He would die, but he would win._

 

_Izaya’s thoughts were cut off by the feeling of Shizuo’s lips against his, rough and wet. The brunette’s eyes flew open, startled and uncertain. This wasn’t expected, this wasn’t a victory - the monster was beating him again. When he felt the other man’s lips part slightly, his confusion turned to anger and he opened his mouth so that he could bite Shizuo’s bottom lip. Much to his chagrin, the blonde groaned softly and threaded a hand through Izaya’s hair, tugging the strands softly. The hand on his throat maintained the same pressure, not tight enough to choke but not loose enough to ignore._

_This was wrong, he thought, eyes still wide open. He despised Shizuo, he didn't want this man to be the one kissing him but it felt strangely pleasant. He tasted of cigarettes and wine, he was bitter. The blonde pulled his hair roughly upward so that his throat was exposed and released his lips so that he could trail a mixture of sloppy kisses and bites down beside his ear. Izaya released a soft moan and gripped Shizuo side with one hand, eyes fluttering shut. The harsh bites felt wonderful, the sensation went straight to his head and he lost himself in the feeling. Behind his closed eyes, his mind was screaming in confusion. It was wrong but so very beautiful as he felt fingers twisting in his hair painfully, saliva on his lips and teeth on his throat. For a blissful second, he forgot where he was, who this was, and he was so happy. Izaya was brought crashing back to reality the moment Shizuo pulled away and yanked his head up, slamming it back against the concrete. The monster held the hair tightly, forcing Izaya to open his eyes and stare at him._

_“Oh dear. Just one kiss and you’re a mess. You really must be desperate for human contact,” Shizuo hissed, giving him an awful smile. “Pathetic.”_

 

_“F-fuck you,” Izaya spat._

 

_A wolfish grin spread across Shizuo’s handsome face. “If you insist, flea. But you can beg a little better than that, can't you?”_

_The ex-bartender forced the other’s thighs apart so he could kneel between them. Izaya began to struggle, but stilled when the hand on his throat squeezed in warning. Shizuo released the other’s neck so that he was able to pull his jeans down, then his hand moved up and slid across his battered torso._

_“Tell me, Iz-a-ya,” Shizuo said, gruffly. “Tell me how much you want me to fuck you.”_

_The informant gasped when he began to gently pump his cock, twisting his grip slightly toward the head in a way that Izaya loved._

_“P-please,” he breathed, swallowing thickly. He was uncharacteristically lost for words._

_Shizuo tutted and dug his fingers into one of the wounds on his chest, eliciting a strangled groan from the other man. “Try harder, Izaya.”_

_He used his name as if it were an insult._

_“I want, ah, feels g-good. I want you,” he panted, as the other man slid his hand quicker and firmer._

_“Pathetic,” he chided, scraping a finger down another wound. A dribble of blood appeared on the man’s pale skin and trickled down his stomach._

_Izaya whimpered, growing too lost in the haze of pleasure to push the hand inflicting pain away. Instead he gripped the sheets and twisted them between his fingers._

_“Please, Shizuo,” he moaned, hips bucking into the hand that pleasured him. “I w-want-”_

_He trailed off into a gargled groan, at which point Shizuo grabbed the base of his shaft and squeezed tightly. The informant howled as his impending orgasm was halted and opened his mouth to draw in gasping breaths._

_“Shizu-chan, please,” he begged, eyes looking wildly at the blonde. “I want- please!”_

 

_The monster smirked at him, gaze flicking up and down his body. “Weak. Aren’t you?”_

 

Izaya jerked awake, letting out a throaty gasp as he fisted the sheets beside him. His sweat-slick body protested at the sudden movement and he grit his teeth as pain shot through his limbs. The informant groaned and ran a hand through his hair.  

 

“What the fuck was that?” he whispered to himself. The small alarm clock on the nightstand beeped twelve.

 

It was too hot all of a sudden, so he pulled back the covers and grimaced when he saw the damp patch on the front of his boxers. Thank the stars he had decided to remove Shizuo’s tracksuit bottoms before getting into the bed - what an explanation that would have been. Izaya swept the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead and let his fingers flop over his eyes. The images he had just seen should _not_ be in his head and they certainly shouldn't have had that effect on him. His groin ached to be touched, but he kept his hands where they were. He was not going to touch himself thinking about the monster, absolutely not. No way.

 

The brunette sighed, annoyed. Why did such a dream even occur, he thought, why Shizuo of all people? And why had he placed himself in the more submissive role, for fuck sake? Izaya couldn't let the beast affect him like this. It was probably just because of the pain, the proximity, the-

 

As his addled mind raced, he swallowed and became aware of how dry his mouth was. He needed water. The man eased his aching body upright and made his way to the door, thankful for the t-shirt he’d been given now that the temperature had dropped. Trying not to make a sound, he opened the door and gently padded across the landing to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter to drink for his body was beginning to ache terribly. It was dark, but he could still see the vague outline of the beast sleeping on the now folded out sofa bed in the living room. When he was sleeping, he was peaceful, he wasn’t so dangerous. He was open. For a moment, he watched the slow rising and falling of the man’s chest. He turned his head to the side and placed the glass of water down on the counter. A knife block containing five sharp blades was only a foot away, he wouldn’t even have to move to reach it. Izaya grabbed ahold of one of the handles and slid it gently from the wood. It was larger than his flick knife but not as sharp. It would be enough. He stared at the blade silently. Everything would be easier if the beast was slain, he wouldn’t have to reconcile these strange feelings, he wouldn’t have to run from the city.

 

“Izaya.”

 

The informant turned his head to see the monster, now sitting, gazing at him from across the room. Shizuo’s expression was shadowed by the evening dim, but he could still see the fire burning in the glint of his eyes. Izaya stood unmoving, uncertain, but he kept the knife in his hand. He could kill the beast while he slept, but where would be the fun in that?

 

“Put it down, go to bed,” Shizuo warned. “Go to sleep.”

 

The brunette didn’t move, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Shizuo growled under his breath and threw off the blanket that was covering him. He moved out of bed and across the room, taking hold of Izaya’s wrist when he stood close to him. As carefully as he could manage, he twisted the man’s arm until the knife clattered to the floor below. The informant was silent, save for a few hisses of pain as his arm protested. He looked up at Shizuo with wide eyes and a weary smile slowly stretched across his face.

 

“I really hate you, Shizu-chan,” he said, softly.

 

Shizuo scowled and let go of the man’s wrist so that he could curl his fist into the collar of his shirt. He pulled the smaller man close and bared his teeth, despising the disgusting grin plastered over his face. Izaya’s mind was racing - he’d provoked the monster on purpose. He wanted to make sure that he hadn’t been imagining it, the twist in his stomach, it wasn’t misplaced - no, there it was again. The informant placed his palms over the hand fisted around his borrowed shirt and chuckled.

 

“How interesting,” he murmured, catching Shizuo’s gaze. The blonde looked furious as ever but there was a hint of ambivalence behind his eyes. Izaya hissed as the man tugged him closer and his torso sang in pain. Then he was hit by the warmth of the other’s arms and chest through the thin material of the t-shirt and his pulse raced. “Ridiculous.”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, flea?” he snarled. “What’s so fuckin’ interesting?”

 

“No amount of money or power in the world would buy that information from me,” Izaya chuckled, fingers digging into Shizuo’s palm. He leaned in very close, until the larger man could feel his breath on his cheek. “Just know it spells trouble for both of us.”

 

The blonde took in a rattled breath, trying to calm himself. As his rage calmed, he noticed the way Izaya’s tight grip had lessened to a gentle hold. He eyed the brunette for a fleeting moment, before looking away, perturbed by the close proximity. The smaller man was flushed, a slick sheen of sweat shone across his face and a wild look in his eye. Like he had only just realised that he had been caught. Like that realisation excited him. His gaze moved to the informant’s smirking lips for a fleeting moment, until the thought that crossed his mind disturbed him enough to quickly release the collar in his grasp.

 

“Go to bed,” he ordered, pointing toward the bedroom door. “If I catch you standin’ over me with a knife again, I’ll break your hands.”

 

“Understood,” Izaya answered, with a laugh. He slowly limped back to the bedroom, where he turned and looked back over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Shizu-chan.”

 

The blonde remained still until the bedroom door shut and he heard the springs of his bed creak under Izaya’s weight. Once he was certain that the man was safely inside, he picked up the fallen knife and shoved it back into the block on the counter.

 

“Fuckin’ flea,” he huffed, heading back to the sofa bed. He lay back and rested his hands beneath the back of his head.

 

Shizuo was thoroughly confused by the other man’s behaviour over the past few hours. Izaya had always been a freak in his opinion, but he’d been even more erratic and mouthy than usual. The way he had been staring at him had been bizarre, it sent a shiver down the blonde’s spine. He looked _hungry._ Feeling uncomfortable, he reached for the cigarettes he had discarded next to the sofa bed and jammed one into his mouth. He lit the end swiftly and chucked the lighter on the floor, sighing as the smoke filled his lungs. As ever, Izaya had managed to upset his fragile peace and torment his mind. He sucked in another breath of smoke and let it drip slowly from between his lips. He would call Shinra in the morning, Shinra would know what to do.

 

The informant’s crimson flush was an image that would be irritatingly present in his mind until he fell asleep.

 

-0-

 

_Two ominous statues were installed over its entrance gate—one named “Melancholy” who appeared calm and the other named “Raving Madness” who was chained and angry._

 

Izaya placed the book down on his lap and took a sip of his tea as he mused on the sentence he had just read. It was the afternoon after their midnight interaction and by the time the informant had woken up, Shizuo had left the house. He didn’t mind, though he could have used assistance getting out of bed. He found it a little difficult to move after sleeping as his limbs seized up and when he finally managed to stand a number of scabs were torn from his skin, causing blood to stream down his torso. When the man finally made his way to the living room he had found the sofa-bed empty and the front door locked. To his annoyance one needed a key to unlock the door, even from the inside. His hands were still shaking too much to hold a lock-pick and there was barely anything to mold one from in the house regardless. So, instead of pushing himself further, he decided to make himself tea and lounge on the sofa until Shizuo arrived home.

 

Next to the sofa was an overly stuffed bookcase, filled with a bizarre collection of paperbacks that Izaya could only presume were from a charity shop as they all seemed to be in a poor condition. He had sneered at first, laughing at the fact the monster could actually read, but soon found himself immersed in the oddities. It was better to distract himself than linger on the thoughts of the blonde that kept creeping into his mind. There was no clear subject or interest hinted at by the titles on the spines. There were classics, dictionaries, modern fiction, crime dramas, comedies and a multitude of others. The tomes that seemed the most worn were the history books, much to Izaya’s surprise. He mused on whether Shizuo read about war and discord in order to remind himself that there was violence, terrible violence, in the world outside of his own head.

 

He settled his cup of tea - black, Shizuo predictably had no milk - on the coffee table and winced as he tried to move his body into a more comfortable position. Everything was incredibly sore, possibly even worse than the day before and he hoped that Shizuo would return soon so that he could ask for painkillers. He picked up the book and re-read the line again.

 

_Two ominous statues were installed over its entrance gate—one named “Melancholy” who appeared calm and the other named “Raving Madness” who was chained and angry._

 

The book he was currently skimming was on the history of Britain and contained a number of different articles by various scholars. The item he was currently reading was a macabre piece on Bedlam, or Bethlem, a mental hospital within which many atrocities occurred. Izaya noted that a number of pages had been marked bit down-turned corners. The quote he was reading had been underlined with pencil, along with a few others of similar ilk. Izaya smiled and ran his finger over the indented graphite, picturing himself on one side of such a gate, calm and cool and innately joyless, whilst Shizuo stood on the other, shackled and ferocious. The informant laughed to himself - what fitting keepers of insanity they would be!

 

_For they be fallen so much out of themselves that it is incurable unto man._

 

That sentence had been underlined so hard he could tell where the pencil nib had broken under pressure. He pictured the monster and frowned. Surely such an idiotic creature did not contemplate such thoughts. Did he think that his own mind was too far gone, Izaya mused, did he seek salvation from that tumultuous, violent rage that clouded his vision? The brunette snorted as he turned another page - fat chance the monster had of any deliverance.

 

_...wanting in humanity._

 

This phrase had been circled multiple times. There was something else, a note, scrawled in the blank space around the text. Izaya scowled and snapped the book shut. There, starkly in blank ink, the monster had scribbled ‘ _Izaya Orihara’_. He, lacking in humanity? What a farce, how utterly ridiculous! The sound of the door opening drew his attention and he turned his head to see Shizuo stumbling through the door, holding a number of plastic bags. The informant scowled and looked back at the closed book. The front door slammed shut.

 

“You’re not dead then?” Shizuo muttered, placing the bags down on the countertop.

 

“Clearly not.”

 

The blonde sighed dramatically and turned to face the other man. “Shame.”

 

“Oh, har-har,” Izaya replied, scathingly. “Where have you be-?”

 

“Who said you could touch my stuff?” Shizuo grumbled, snatching the book off Izaya’s lap.

 

The informant tilted his head to one side. “Well, if you will leave me alone with nothing to do.”

 

Shizuo huffed and placed the book back on the shelf, before shoving a freshly lit cigarette into his mouth. “I went out shopping. Needed some food and more booze if I’m gonna have to put up with you for another couple days.”

 

“Couple of- of days?” Izaya exclaimed. He shook his head fervently - he didn’t want to stay around the monster any longer. The proximity was suffocating, that must be the reason that his mind was playing tricks on him. “Fuck no, I’ll be fine - I can go now!”

 

“Have you seen yourself?” Shizuo retorted, pulling various items of food out of the bags. “Besides, I called Shinra and he said not to move you or you might burst a lung or something.”

 

Izaya paled. “You did what?”

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“Never mind,” he snapped. In truth, he was frustrated that anyone would know the beast saved his life, even Shinra. That he had been fed and watered by him, that he’d slept in the man’s bed - no, that image would surely damage his reputation.

 

“It’s only Shinra, flea,” the blonde replied, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want anyone else findin’ out you’re here either. They’ll think I’m goin’ soft.”

 

“Well, what did he say?”

 

Shizuo shrugged. “Not much, you know what he’s like. Celty seemed more worried, to tell ya the truth.”

 

“Celty,” Izaya began, scowling. “Is probably just concerned that I’m going to murder you in your own home.”

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckled, stabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the counter. “Shinra told me to keep you here until he can look at you. Then he said to tell you to stay still, drink water an’ eat stuff, take painkillers and rest. And ice-packs twice, uh, yeah twice a day.”

 

“He said what?” the informant said, slowly. The bubbling rage was obvious in his tone.

 

“I told him I’d take you to the hospital but he said you wouldn’t wanna go to anywhere public. Well, he’s gonna come take a look at you and sort you out but he’s outta town at the moment. He pretty much ordered me to watch you to make sure you don’t choke on your own blood or nothing.”

 

Shinra was correct on that part, Izaya thought, he didn’t want to risk being taken into a public hospital when there were undoubtedly warrants for his arrest and people still looking to kill him. Staying in a hospital was like being a sitting duck, anyone could find him. He doubted that he would be able to make the journey back to Shinjuku without his guts spilling onto the pavement and no cab would take him in this state. The beast’s pit may be his only viable option. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

 

“Right,” he sighed, moving to rub his temples. “And how long will he be?”

 

Shizuo frowned and turned back to the shopping. “End of the week.”

 

Izaya clenched his fist at his side. “But it’s only Wednesday.”

 

“Look, I’m not exactly over the moon about this either, flea,” the blonde commented. “I’m just followin’ doctor’s orders.”

 

“That’s not good enough!” Izaya moaned, volume raising. “Get him here now!”

 

Shizuo dropped the bread he had been holding and turned to face the other man. Slowly, he moved in front of him and bent down so that he was at the same eye-level. His jaw was clenched and visible through the skin of his cheek.

 

“Stop being such a fuckin’ brat,” he said, eyebrows furrowing. “You were the one who got yourself into such a state in the firs’ place, so now you deal with the consequences. You’re lucky that anyone wants to help a scumbag like you. So _shut up_ and deal with it.”

 

Izaya glared at him silently for a moment, then rammed his empty tea-cup into Shizuo’s chest. “Well, if I’m going to be staying you can make me some more tea.”

 

Shizuo bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smashing the china into Izaya’s smug face. He stood and moved back into the kitchen, gently settling the cup next to the shopping. He silently placed everything away in the refrigerator and cupboards, ignoring Izaya completely.

 

“You're getting surprisingly good at controlling your temper,” the informant commented. When Shizuo looked back at him, the smaller man had taken another book from the shelf. It was now laying flat on his knees and he was flipping slowly through the pages. The blonde recognised that as a photography book Kasuka had once gifted to him after he came home from a shoot abroad. It was a lovely, coffee-table piece, filled with photos of big cats. Kasuka said that they reminded him of Shizuo - brimming with power but innately protective, familial. The blonde smiled to himself.

 

“I don't want to destroy my house,” he replied, absently. He frowned when the haze of nostalgia began to wear off. He didn't want the informant’s filthy hands on that book, but telling him so would only provoke him into action. Perhaps distracting him would make the informant forget about it. “You wanted tea?”

 

Izaya nodded, still thumbing through the photos. Shizuo switched on the kettle and watched him carefully. The brunette had a calm expression. He was looking at the pictures intently, tracing various lines with his forefinger as if etching them into his memory. Just as the kettle clicked, he shut the book and placed it beside him on the sofa.

 

“Such marvelous creatures,” he sighed. “I'd kill to see a tiger up close.”

 

Shizuo snorted and poured the informant another cup of tea and himself a strong coffee. “Probably tear you to shreds, flea.”

 

Izaya chuckled as the blonde approached and nodded in thanks when he passed his refreshed cup. Shizuo placed the book back in the case before sitting in the armchair opposite the other man.

 

“I've run from more violent monsters and survived,” he laughed, pointedly.

 

“Izaya,” Shizuo growled. “Didn't I tell you to behave?”

 

“Can't even take a little teasing?” the brunette scoffed. “Pathetic.”

 

Shizuo opened his mouth to respond but found his words strangled when Izaya started to blow on the hot tea to cool it. He’d noticed his lips last night too, hadn't he? The informant looked back up at him after taking a short sip.  

 

“What?” he asked, blankly.

 

The blonde glared at him and took a burning gulp of coffee. “Nothing, flea.”

 

The afternoon turned quickly to evening. Shizuo forced Izaya to rest and made sure the man took painkillers and iced his ribs. If the scene had been silent, an onlooker may have believed that the two men were friends. However, their constant jibes and vicious dialogue made it quite clear that they despised each other. The blonde managed to refrain from hurting the smaller man - apart from a broken right hand, which hadn't really been Shizuo’s fault. Izaya had aimed a heavy punch at his back while he made lunch and ended up cracking a couple of his fingers rather than hurting his target. The informant had shut himself away in the bedroom with a book and the first aid kit since that moment, clearly stropping.

 

Shizuo sighed and looked at the clock behind the television. Six, that meant it was dark outside and he could have a drink. The man hoisted himself off the sofa and walked to the fridge for a beer. The can cracked loudly, as satisfying a noise as Izaya’s fingers breaking, he thought with a smirk. As he took a swift gulp, he moved back to the sofa and flopped down. This predicament was absurd, he thought, lighting a cigarette. But at least he knew Shinra would be here eventually. He was actually rather proud of how steadily he was acting - ignoring the way he tore Izaya’s chest open last night, of course. The flea had deserved that, so it didn't count.

 

The titles of the comedy show he was watching started to roll. It had been quite a while since he’d had any time off work and he couldn't help but feel a little bored. The ex-bartender couldn't afford a computer and he didn't really like staying indoors that much anyway, so he didn't mind trawling the streets with Tom. He liked the city, even with all its flaws. It was a vibrant place, full of people and life - he liked watching it go by. With a sigh, he took another swig of beer. He could deal with a little cabin fever until Shinra arrived.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Good and evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we're getting somewhere!  
> Thank you for the reviews, every single one is appreciated!  
> Next chapter soon.

_But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared?_

 

Shizuo lowered the book in his hand and took a drag of his cigarette. He marked the page and closed the cover as he took a swig of beer. The question sunk into his mind slowly. He enjoyed reading, but it took him a while to understand much of the texts he read. Sometimes he missed the subtext completely, so he would have to re-read the same page over and over. He had always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about the level of his education, so he tried to read as much as he could to fill his brain with knowledge, no matter how useless the information may be. The man leaned back and rested his head on the back of the sofa, cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth.

 

He considered Izaya to be evil. What would he himself be without the other man causing havoc in his life? Happier, perhaps. The blonde frowned and took another drag of his smoke. He was violent before Izaya, undoubtedly he would be violent if the informant were not present too. His absence might cause more attention to be drawn to Shizuo, might make clearer his abnormalities. The people of Ikebukuro knew them as a pair, two opposites being constantly drawn together to clash violently. Neither was better or worse in their minds - thus, without Izaya perhaps Shizuo would be viewed as evil, a sole evil. The informant was so dreadful that he actually managed to cast the monster in a better light, or at least that was how Shizuo chose to view it. Without Izaya’s evil acting as his foil, he, with all his uncontrollable violent power, would be considered the worst person in the city.

 

 _No - he wasn’t the bad person here, he wasn’t evil like Izaya._ That was the lie he told himself every day.

 

In truth, he knew that the informant wasn’t solely to blame for the damage they caused. His rage was uncontrollable, his justifications were flawed - Shizuo was more than aware that he was indeed a _monster._ That was undeniable, look at the vile things he had done to Izaya the day before. All the places he’d wrecked and the people he’d beaten half to death, just because they got in the way. There was evil inside of him, he knew that. He tried to hide it, he didn’t want people to see that hideous face that surfaced when red mist clouded his mind. Shizuo could hold Izaya responsible for everything bad in his life, and indeed he did, but deep down inside he knew that it was him alone who shouldered the blame.

 

He committed these thoughts to memory. The man made a point of remembering points of violence in the books he read, just to emphasize to himself that he was not the only savage force out there. There was one quote he ascribed to Izaya, above all others - _See, people with power understand exactly one thing: violence._

 

The blonde let out a sigh and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. He turned his head toward his bedroom door - Izaya hadn’t made a sound since he’d stormed out to nurse his broken fingers. It was seven thirty, he must be hungry by now. Shizuo pushed himself up off the sofa and moved across the room so that he could pound his fist on the bedroom door.

 

“Oi, flea,” he called, a fresh scowl spreading over his lips. Silence. He opened the door roughly and stepped inside. “Oi-”

 

Izaya was on the bed, propped up against the pillows. His eyes were shut and ringed by dark circles. He was pale and his cheeks hollow, his brittle bones were so prominent through his skin it looked as if they might poke through. The man had tightly bound the two broken fingers on his left hand, but the job was crude. Shizuo could see his chest moving gently and was reassured that the other man was still alive. The blonde leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. The flea could really take a beating, it was almost impressive. He was small, whippet thin, almost sickly looking. Shizuo knew better than to judge him by his appearance at this stage, the informant was still the only one who ever got close enough to make him bleed. Izaya wasn’t exactly strong, he thought, not like he was. He was  a different type of dangerous - sinewy, fast and nightmarishly intelligent. Shizuo wasn’t too proud to admit that Izaya was definitely more gifted in the brains department than he. The flea also had the advantage of having little to no empathy for the humans he claimed to adore. He could act without remorse, something that Shizuo found very difficult when he was dealing with anyone besides the informant. Although, Izaya didn’t look like the sort of creature who could ruin someone’s life at that moment, and the blonde found himself feeling a little guilty for the assault he had committed on the previous day. Even if Izaya was a complete dickhead, Shizuo thought, he shouldn’t have made the informant’s injuries worse.

 

The blonde smirked and let out a breathy chuckle. “Fuckin’ psychopath.”

 

Izaya’s right eye cracked open. “What an unpleasant thing to say, beast.”

 

Shizuo frowned and pushed himself away from the door. “S’true.”

 

The informant sat up and smiled tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his good hand. “Were you watching me sleep?”

 

“No,” Shizuo growled, a little more aggressively than intended. “I came to see if you wanted any food but you was sleeping.”

 

“Were.”

 

“Shut it,” he warned. How did Izaya manage to anger him so easily? He’d gone from irritated to furious in less than a minute. “I’m making steak, you want some?”

 

Izaya nodded, smile still firmly in place. He winced as he began to move off the bed, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde. He crossed the bedroom and grabbed ahold of Izaya’s arm, making a point of not looking at him. The informant didn’t say anything, he simply allowed the other man to bear the weight of his body as he was guided into the living room and onto the sofa.

 

“Shizu-chan is burning at such a high temperature,” he murmured, as the man released his arm and let him sink down into the cushions. The blonde raised a brow, confused by the remark. “Do you have a fever?”

 

“Uh - no, don’t think so,” Shizuo replied, placing his hand on his forehead. His skin felt as it always did. “You cold or somethin’?”

 

The brunette shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “No. You're warm.”

 

Shizuo felt his cheeks heat up, so he quickly turned away from the informant and busied himself with cooking. A few minutes of silence passed, then his attention was drawn back by the sound of Izaya hissing. When he glanced over his shoulder he could see that the informant had pulled his t-shirt up and was examining a deep tear on his hip. Shizuo paled when he realised that was the wound he had so carelessly pushed his fingers inside.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. “For makin’ them worse. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Izaya looked up at him, face blank. “Did you just apologise?”

 

“Yeah, so what?”

 

“Did you hit your head?” Izaya laughed. “Or did I?”

 

Shizuo rolled his eyes and turned back to the food he was preparing. Chopping through whole potatoes was as easy as slicing cake for him and soon he had chipped several and thrown them into the oven to cook. He hummed to himself as he moved about the kitchen, almost forgetting that his most hated foe was sat only feet away. The blonde grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of red wine he had stashed below the sink and made his way over to the lounge.

 

“You drink like a fish, you know that?” Izaya commented, raising a brow.

 

“Yeah well, you drive me to it,” he replied, tone light enough to indicate he was joking for once. The man felt in a strangely good mood that evening, though he couldn’t place why. He poured a large glass and held it out. “Want some?”

 

Izaya nodded and took the glass carefully, trying not to flinch when his wounds flared up due to the movement. He settled back into the sofa cushions and rested the wine on his knee, fingers delicately pinching the stem of the glass. Shizuo grinned and poured himself another, then patted his pocket to try and find his cigarettes. Irritatingly, he seemed to have left them somewhere.

 

“Thanks,” the informant said, nodding his head slightly.

 

“Sure,” Shizuo replied, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the other man, who was quietly sipping his drink. “So, uh, how do you feel today?”

 

Izaya looked back at him, bemused. “Like I’ve been hit by a couple of trucks.”

 

“I think you got a couple ‘a broken ribs,” he said, gesturing at the informant. “So don’t go puncturing a lung or anything stupid by moving about too much.”

 

“Yes, doctor,” Izaya snorted. “Don’t you have other responsibilities besides taking care of me, Shizu-chan?”

 

The blonde shrugged. “Not really. Work’s off for a while ‘til Tom gets better.”

 

“Do you do anything besides work?” Izaya asked, frowning. Despite their history and the constant presence in each other’s lives, he realised he really didn’t know anything about the other man.

 

“I hang out with friends, I guess,” Shizuo replied. He dug around in the pocket of his sweatpants and retrieved a crumpled packet of cigarettes. “And I go to the gym.”

 

“Friends?”

 

“Yeah,” he answered, lighting a cigarette and placing it in his mouth. He took a thoughtful drag, then let out a breath. “I see Celty and Shinra a lot. Tom, he hangs out with me outside of work, so does Vorona. I see Kasuka whenever he’s in town. There are others, but I ‘spose they’re mostly acquaintances.”

 

Izaya stared at him silently for a moment. It was unfair that the beast should have so many ‘friends’ whilst he lived such a solitary life. He craved interaction and affection so much, yet he knew it was something that by his very nature he could never have. He cared too much for conflict and chaos to be able to form any lasting bonds - aside from Shinra, perhaps.

 

“What about you?” Shizuo asked, drawing the man from his thoughts. He took another drag of his cigarette. “When you’re not pissin’ me off or starting fights, what do you do?”

 

The informant took a larger gulp of his drink. “Uh, I spend a lot of time gathering information-”

 

“Aside from work, Izaya.”

 

“I play board games,” he replied, blankly. The brunette frowned - that wasn’t the answer he wanted to give, but it was all he could think of at that moment. He flexed his injured hand gently and winced at the feeling.

 

“Like chess and stuff?” Shizuo asked. Izaya nodded, gaze still focused on his drink. “With who?”

 

“Myself,” Izaya said, softly. He looked back up at the beast. “My games are complicated. I’m the only one who knows how to play them.”

 

The blonde frowned. What a strange creature he is, he thought, the dazed expression on his face almost made him look _sad._ Shizuo almost felt sorry for him - he would change the subject. He grinned and took a drink.

 

“What about that secretary of yours?” he commented, raising a brow. “She’s a chemist or something, ain’t she?”

 

“Namie?” Izaya replied, lips quirking into a smile. “She used to be the chief of Yagiri Pharma, until it was bought out. Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, surely she’s clever enough to keep up with you,” Shizuo said, relaxing slightly when the melancholic expression on Izaya’s face vanished. He wasn’t certain why it made him uncomfortable, but he reasoned it was pity. “Perhaps if you taught her the rules, she might-”

 

“Oh, I’m certain Namie wouldn’t want to spend time with me. She hates me almost as much as you do,” Izaya chuckled, picturing his secretary’s favourite look of disgust. “Plus she only really wants to spend _time_ with her brother, if you catch my drift.”

 

Shizuo wrinkled his nose. “You mean she-?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“That’s...odd,” the blonde said, uneasily. He took a drag of his cigarette and let out a cloud of smoke. “Shame really, she’s hot. Got that kinda sexy, snotty bitch thing goin’.”

 

“Bitch definitely being the operative word,” Izaya snorted, with a smirk. He swirled his drink around in the glass and glanced back up at Shizuo. He pondered whether or not to continue this conversation, but found that he was surprisingly comfortable. If he regretted anything he said, he could just kill the blonde. “If you had said Celty, however…”

 

“Really?” Shizuo spluttered. He was partially shocked by the admission, but more surprised that Izaya was conversing with him so easily. It was uncertain, new, but he found that he didn’t mind it. “She doesn’t have a head!”

 

“I’ve always imagined that her head would be attractive,” Izaya replied, chuckling under his breath. “But regardless, call me a sucker for a leather catsuit. Such a shame she hates my guts.”

 

Shizuo laughed loudly and to both of their surprise, Izaya joined in. Neither man decided to linger on the warmth they felt for very long. The blonde poured himself more wine, then stood and checked the food in the oven before sitting back down.

 

“Fuckin’ useless oven,” he muttered, stabbing the cigarette into an ashtray. “Anyway, I won’t tell Celty - or Shinra, cos’ he’d probably take _your_ head.”

 

“Oh, I doubt Celty would believe you anyway,” he replied, sighing gently. “I take it by the lecherous comment about my beloved secretary that you are not in a relationship?”

 

“No,” Shizuo said, tensing slightly. “Don’t have the time.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

The blonde glared at Izaya. “Seriously - between work and chasing you outta the city I barely have time to breathe.”

 

“So - stop chasing me,” the informant answered, bluntly. “It’s not that difficult is it?”

 

“I-” Shizuo paused, brows furrowing. “I can’t.”

 

Izaya tilted his head to one side. He didn’t know whether prying into this would be wise, but naturally curiosity won over reason. “Why not? Surely it would be easier for the both of us if you turned your head the other way, just left me alone. It would be better for the city’s infrastructure at the very least.”

 

“You and I both know that neither of us will be able to give up that easily,” Shizuo commented, sourly. “You’ll never stop prodding and I’ll never be able to keep my temper when you do. I will never be able to stop chasing you, flea.”

 

“I suppose not,” the informant responded, running his forefinger around the rim of his glass. “Well, at least it’s entertaining.”

 

“You find pleasure in the strangest shit, Izaya,” Shizuo scoffed, getting to his feet. As the blonde crossed the room to check on the food, Izaya watched him closely. Yes, he thought, the strangest shit indeed. “Anyways, you got a girlfriend?”

 

“No.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

Izaya took a large gulp of wine and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Shizuo sat back down opposite him, a fresh cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

 

“No,” he hissed, frowning.

 

Shizuo held up his hands. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with-”

 

“I know that, monster. Gender is hardly important,” Izaya interrupted. He felt a flush cross his cheeks and cringed internally. “What I’m saying is I don’t have any sort of partner. I don’t even have a pet.”

 

“Oh,” the blonde said, with a smile. Izaya seemed flustered, the redness on his face was rather endearing. “Have you ever...?”

 

“I presume you mean partner, not pet?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

Izaya sighed and tried not to roll his eyes at the beast’s idiotic questions. “Yes. I’ve had sex, if that’s what you’re so unsubtly trying to ask.”

 

“Huh,” Shizuo said, smirking. “With an actual person? Like, alive?”

 

“What do you take me for?” the informant snarled, annoyed. “Yes they were alive and before you ask, it was consensual.”

 

Shizuo shook his head and his smile faltered momentarily. “I wasn’t gonna ask that. You’re a lotta things, flea, but I don’t picture you as a rapist.”

 

“You shouldn’t be _picturing_ me in that sort of situation at all.”

 

“I don’t!” the blonde muttered, scowling. “Fuck’s sake, flea.”

 

“What?” he sneered. Izaya hesitated only slightly with his following words, wondering if he had a death wish. His mind drifted to the dream he had the night before. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

 

Shizuo visibly stiffened but, to Izaya’s surprise, he didn’t lash out. A vague, unknown emotion clouded his golden eyes and he looked down at his drink. Izaya twitched - this was unexpected. Surely not? The informant held his tongue for once, his thoughts racing, unsure if he was excited or fearful.

 

“I uh-” the blonde began, nervously. He took another drag of his cigarette.

 

Shizuo tried to form coherent thoughts but kept drawing blanks. Why wasn’t he shouting, he thought, why wasn’t he lying and saying no? He looked up at Izaya and froze when he saw the expression on the other man’s face. The informant’s face was even more flushed than before, he was tense but his eyes were shining and wide, his lips slightly parted as if holding his breath. For a brief second, the blonde was convinced that the man sat opposite him was not his enemy but rather some wounded stranger  and a realisation hit him like a freight train - he was attracted to Izaya. He thought back to the brunette’s words when he re-bandaged his shoulder the previous evening.

 

_I think I may be starting to understand._

 

“I-I,” Shizuo stammered, eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

The informant swallowed - what happened now would be interesting albeit potentially terrifying. He had Shizuo cornered - why then did he himself feel so exposed? Shizuo seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, mouth hanging agape and Izaya could tell that whatever had just crossed his mind had startled him. It was the same reaction he experienced to the dream the other night.

 

“Tell me,” Izaya said, coolly. Shizuo looked up at him, confused and nervous. “What you think about.”

 

The blonde flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and laced his hands together, elbows resting on his knees. He looked Izaya straight in the eye and began to speak, as clearly as he could. This was not a defeat, he told himself, not when Izaya’s eyes were shining so brightly and his broken fingers were so obviously trembling _._

 

“I’ve thought about fucking you,” he murmured, surprised by how steady he sounded. “But it doesn’t mean I like you.”

 

“I didn’t expect it to,” Izaya responded. He didn’t think Shizuo would have the guts to admit something like that - he was almost impressed. “Details, please.”

 

Shizuo ran a hand through his hair. “Nah, I don’t think-”

 

“It’s only fair,” the informant insisted. He wanted to know, he _really_ wanted to know. “It is my face you’re using, after all.”

 

“Fine! Fucking hell,” he exclaimed, downing the rest of his glass. “Well, there’s often a lotta pent up energy and shit when we fight, so I think about finally catching you and-”

 

“And?” Izaya pressed. He felt his pulse quicken - this was a scenario he too had thought about.

 

“And then I fuck your horrible fucking mouth to shut you the fuck up,” Shizuo snapped, suddenly sounding pissed off. “Then I fuck you, until you scream or cry.”

 

“In pleasure or pain?” the brunette asked, amused.

 

“Don’t care.”

 

“Charming.”

 

Shizuo pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Why had he told Izaya that, he raged, why the fuck did he tell him? He looked up when he heard the informant chuckle darkly. The other man stared back at him, with a nasty smirk on his face and lust evident in his eyes.

 

“I’ve had much the same dream,” Izaya said. “Though I must admit, mine is a little kinder to me.”

 

The blonde clenched his jaw and he felt a vein pulsing by his temple. “I must be drunker than I thought tellin’ you that shit, ‘zaya.”

 

“Perhaps,” he mused, shifting his body into a more comfortable position so that his back rested against the sofa arm and his legs were splayed out on the cushions. He knew the blonde was barely tipsy. He held his empty glass out toward Shizuo. “More.”

 

“Brat,” he snorted, grabbing ahold of the bottle. He stood and crouched beside Izaya so that he could place the neck of the bottle over the glass. For a moment he was distracted, watching the red wine filling the glass and listening to the gentle glug of the liquid as it splashed against the sides. He felt a hand slide around the back of his head, and then Izaya’s cold lips were over his. The blonde remained still, too shocked at first to move. His eyes were wide, looking down at the informant - he was close, he was so close and he could feel him and his smell was everywhere. Shizuo let his eyes flutter shut and he started to respond, lips moving gently against Izaya’s. He felt the brunette smirk but he didn’t care, too consumed with the taste and touch of his mouth.

 

Izaya groaned when he felt one of Shizuo’s hands rake through the back of his hair. The other hand took ahold of the wine glass and pulled it out of the brunette's hands so that he could put it next to the discarded bottle on the floor. The informant sighed heavily, his heart pounding in his ears and his skin starting to perspire. He hadn’t expected the beast to be a good kisser, but once again he had been surprised. The pleasant warmth was back, spreading across his skin as Shizuo’s hand moved to rest just below his collarbones. He heard a growl rumble low in the monster’s chest and he couldn’t deny that the sound went straight to his crotch. After this, the informant started to panic - kissing was one thing but what would happen if this continued, what were his aims here? A shiver ran down his spine when he felt Shizuo’s tongue slip into his mouth. Did he really want to sleep with this animal, the one he hated most? Izaya moaned again when the blonde’s hand moved down and slipped under his shirt, carefully stroking over his hipbone. The sound seemed to provoke Shizuo and he started to kiss the other man with more force than before, bruising his lips. The hand on his hip tightened enough to cause pain, so Izaya pushed against his chest. When the blonde didn’t move, he bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to make Shizuo drew back.

 

“Careful,” the informant warned, gritting his teeth.

 

Shizuo released the man’s hip quickly and drew back, touching a finger to the lip Izaya had bitten. His eyes darkened and an unusual smirk spread across his face. “Do that again.”

 

“What?” Izaya asked, curving back slightly when Shizuo leaned in again.

 

“Bite me,” the blonde hissed. The hand in Izaya’s hair tightened and the informant grunted in pain. “Or should I bite you?”

 

Before Izaya could reply, his head was yanked back and the larger man sunk his teeth into his exposed throat. The brunette let out a cry and started to pant when Shizuo ran his tongue over the bite mark, easing the blunt pain. He grabbed ahold of the blonde’s shirt and clenched the fabric between his fingers. His small frame was trembling, so tense that it caused his wounds to flare and agonising pain shot across his torso. Shizuo bit him again and he keened, body twisting so hard that he felt something tear, then warmth spilling near his ribs.

 

“Sh-Shizuo,” he mumbled, swallowing the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. “Wait-”

 

The beast pulled back and stared down at him curiously, eyes clouded with lust. “What, flea?”

 

Izaya shivered and chided himself internally for showing such weakness. “Hurts.”

 

“What?” Shizuo repeated, slightly loosening the grip on his hair. The blonde looked down and frowned. There was a patch of red blossoming through the white t-shirt, just above the man’s stomach. Clearly he’d torn open a wound when he had been thrashing about. “Shit.”

 

“Chest. It hurts,” Izaya said, weakly. He wasn't sure if it was the pain, the kiss or the fact he had been thoroughly aroused by such a monster, but his head was spinning. All of a sudden he felt exhausted and he didn't want to have to deal with this now, he didn't want to have to reconcile his actions with his thoughts, not yet. He felt something cold press against his chest and looked down to see Shizuo pressing a wet cloth over a re-opened knife slash.

 

“Stupid,” Shizuo grunted. He didn't look up when he heard Izaya draw in a wheezy, stunted breath.

 

Neither man was sure who that comment was referring to. Slowly, the larger man hauled Izaya into his arms and moved him back into the bedroom. The informant didn't say anything else, he just watched as the blonde retrieved the first aid kit and laid it down on the pillow next to him. Shizuo ran a hand over his face and glanced back at the other man momentarily before walking out of the bedroom.

 

“I'll leave food in the fridge. Jus’ get some sleep for now, kay? You look like you're about t’ pass out.”

 

Izaya shut his eyes and forced his mind to clear as the door swung shut.

 


	6. Checkmate

 

_He remembers when he first saw him, standing over the school with his hands in his pockets as if he owned the place. Izaya Orihara - he knew him only by reputation and he already didn’t like him. The type who caused chaos then sat back calmly to watch, Shizuo thought, a blood-sucking flea. The small, dark-haired boy inclined his head slightly and Shizuo wondered if he had noticed him staring. He remembers clenching the strap of his bag and storming into the school when a filthy smile crossed Izaya’s face and he raised his hand to wave. He had definitely noticed. It was strange, but even then, rage came quickly. Shizuo spent that morning pummelling the door of his locker, the metal crunching easily beneath his fist._

 

_The hatred only intensified with time. The second time he saw Izaya, it was from across a playing field littered with beaten-up classmates. Even with his mind addled by fury, he knew the brunette was responsible for setting them on him, he could tell from the nasty smile plastered across his face. If he had been a more sensitive person, he might have wondered why Izaya disliked him so intensely when he barely knew him but he found that he didn’t care. Blood was pounding in his ears when he approached Izaya, the word ‘kill’ playing over and over in his mind. He wanted to tear the flea’s arms off and stuff them down his throat - it wouldn’t be too hard, there was no way the fragile-looking boy could stand a chance against him. At least that was what he had thought, and then the flea dodged his rampage and managed to slice deep into his chest with a flick-knife. The blonde felt anger to a degree he had never experienced before - hence why he didn’t see the dump truck that smashed into his side._

 

_While he was laying on the road, exhausted and in pain, he could see Izaya standing over him. The brunette was still smiling, still mocking him. It was only when Shizuo shakily pushed himself to his feet and started to limp toward him that his eyes widened and he took a step back. The look was only fleeting, but it didn’t go unnoticed. It wasn’t fear, more like surprise, as if he couldn’t quite believe that the rumours he had been hearing about the brute were true. The blonde remembers laughing. He remembers thinking_

 

_“Gonna take more than that to beat me, Iz-a-ya.”_

 

_Izaya smiled in return. “You really are a monster, aren’t you?”_

 

_“Fuck you,” Shizuo snarled, wincing slightly as his bruised body protested against his movements. He wrenched a manhole cover out of the ground and held it at his side. “You’re a dead man.”_

 

_Izaya chuckled and darted off before the manhole cover could collide with his head. He turned back to wave at the blonde, who was already tearing a stop sign from the cement to throw at him._

 

_“Catch me if you can, Shizu-chan!”_

 

_Shizuo swore to himself that day that he would catch the flea. He’d catch him, then he’d tear his fucking head off if it was the last thing he ever did._

 

_Over the years, he would never admit that he enjoyed the chase almost as much as the ever-gleeful Izaya._

 

-0-

 

_What are you doing?_

 

_What the fuck are you doing?_

 

It surprised him how much the nasty voice in his head sounded like Izaya. Shizuo ran his hands through his hair and tugged on it. He could still taste the flea on his lips, he could still feel soft, bloody skin under his fingertips. His head was full of so many loud thoughts, it felt like a beehive.

 

“Stop,” he groaned, hitting his temple with his knuckles. “Pipe the fuck down.”

 

_What the fuck have you done?_

 

Izaya was still passed out in the other room. He should kill him now, get it over with, get rid of the temptation before it could properly fester. The monster grit his teeth. Just a quick snap and the flea would go limp.

 

_Monster._

 

It would be cowardly to kill him now. Shizuo pulled at his hair harder. He could feel rage building in his chest, so ferocious it burned. If only the flea wasn’t injured, he could really do with a fight to let out his frustration. Instead, he collapsed onto the sofa and concentrated on breathing.

 

In _. Izaya wasn’t in his home. He’d left him for dead._

 

Out _. He hadn’t kissed him._

 

In _. He hadn’t enjoyed it._

 

Out _. He didn’t want to do it again._

 

The blonde relaxed his muscles and tipped his head back so that it rested on the back of the sofa. The situation was so ridiculous that it almost made him laugh - it really couldn’t have been anyone else, could it? It _had_ to be the man he loathed. Shizuo wondered if there was something wrong with his brain - it was already abnormal in that he had no physical limitations, perhaps he’d been wired the wrong way and attraction and hate had gotten all jumbled up.

 

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he chastised himself, unhappily. Shizuo didn’t know what to think, what to do, so he did what he always did. He blamed it all on the flea.

 

Izaya wasn’t faring much better. He was still laying on the bed where the blonde had dropped him earlier, his arms spread out wide. This wouldn’t do, he thought, this wouldn’t do at all. It was one thing dreaming about it, thinking about it, but actually _touching_ the beast - vile! Disgusting. Absolutely in no way pleasurable. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget about the way those bites had turned him on. The informant opened his eyes and let out a sigh. It was pointless to try and lie to himself, wasn’t it? The realisation was so great that he couldn’t deny it and ignoring it would only prolong the inevitable. He found Shizuo attractive. Objectively, that was obvious. He had been the one to instigate that kiss, after all.

 

Izaya frowned - it was a troubling realisation but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the present. It didn’t lessen the intense hatred he had always held for the blonde, it was just added alongside that. Clearly Shizuo felt the same way - when he had dumped Izaya on the bed, he had seen fear in the beast’s eyes. That was what Izaya wanted, that was how he could deal with this. If he were careful, he could use that flicker of fear to his advantage and move their battle to a more even playing field, despite his body being in an injured state. The informant clenched his fists and pushed himself up so that he could slide off of the bed. Izaya was not afraid of the monster and he would _not_ be beaten by these pathetic feelings. He would win this game, _he always won_. It was time to stop running. A nasty grin slid across his face.

 

_Well, he was going to hell anyway, why not have some fun?_

 

He shoved the door open and glared at the blonde, who was sat across the room on the sofa, a smoking cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Shizuo’s eyes were wide and there, shining behind the blown-wide pupils was the panic that Izaya desired. The informant’s grin widened further, baring his teeth.

 

“Flea-”

 

Izaya chuckled and held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Well, you caught me Shizu-chan.”

 

The blonde stiffened at the other’s jovial tone. That was the voice that taunted him during their chases, the one that narrated the worst moments of his life. “What are you d-”

 

The informant approached him slowly and placed his hands on that back of the sofa, so they caged Shizuo’s head. With a short grunt of discomfort, the brunette pressed one knee down onto the seat between the other man’s legs so that he could lean closer to his face. The beast seemed frozen in shock, though his eyes darted around frantically as if trying to look for an escape. Izaya almost laughed - Shizuo could thrown him away so easily yet he chose to remain in place. When he caught the blonde’s gaze he could almost see the internal struggle behind his eyes.

 

“Isn’t that was you always wanted?” he hummed, softly. He narrowed his eyes and laughed gently.

 

Shizuo’s face turned a pleasing shade of crimson. He didn’t understand what was happening, why he wasn’t punching the smug face into a bloody pulp or chucking the flea out of the window. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t damn well breathe with the flea that close to him. Had the informant lost his damn mind, he thought, what was he doing? Why was he giving up? He swallowed and found that his throat was dry.

 

“And now that you’ve got me, monster,” Izaya continued, face bright with excitement. “What are you going to do, hmm? Going to go through with your nastyy little fantasy?”

 

The blonde glanced down so that he didn’t have to look Izaya in the eye. The informant had slipped through his fingers so many times that he’d never truly considered what he would do if he caught him. Fucking him, killing him - these were just fantasies, weren’t they? Shizuo felt the cigarette being pulled out of his mouth and looked back up at the other man, who still had that irritating smirk plastered over his face. He stabbed the cigarette out on the sofa and moved his hand back up to rest under Shizuo’s chin.

 

“I’ve been running away from you for so long, Shizu-chan,” Izaya murmured, fingers gripping the other’s face a little tighter so that his nails dug into his skin. “But now that I’m here I realise that getting caught isn’t bad. In fact, it feels an awful lot like _winning._ ”

 

“You haven’t won anything,” Shizuo snarled, though his words came out a little breathier than intended.

 

“No?” the informant replied, raising a brow. He lowered his hand and raked it down Shizuo’s chest until it rested on the man’s crotch. The beast grunted and his eyes widened in alarm. “Then why are you hard?”

 

Shizuo didn't know what to say. The flea was right, he was aroused. So aroused he could barely gather a thought other than ‘I want to stick my dick in that big mouth of his to stop him talking’. The blonde hated it, he hated himself for thinking it and he hated Izaya for besting him again. There was no way to beat him now, not unless he played along and indulged in the game. But if he did that, wouldn't that throw their entire relationship off kilter? Could they still hate each other after - his thoughts stilled when Izaya leaned forward and sunk his teeth into the blonde’s neck. Pleasure exploded under his skin and the informant chuckled into his throat when he felt Shizuo’s cock jerk under his hand.

 

He heard Izaya mutter something against his skin. Something that sounded like-

 

_“Checkmate.”_

 

He let out a groan and fisted the back of Izaya’s hair. The brunette hissed and grabbed the back of the sofa with both hands when Shizuo dragged him down to his eye level.

 

“Do you even understand what you're saying?” he growled, flinching slightly when the other man grabbed at him harder.

 

“Of course I do, Shizu-chan,” he answered, a happy smile on his face. “I always know exactly what I’m doing.”

 

“Clearly not,” the blonde replied, jabbing his thumb gently into the other man’s ribs. Izaya visibly cringed, causing Shizuo to chuckle. “Arrogant prick.”

 

Izaya let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone keep calling me that?”

 

“Because it’s true.”

 

“Heh, perhaps,” he admitted, shrugging. The action sent a shot of pain across his sternum, causing his elbows to buckle and his head to bash against Shizuo’s shoulder. The blonde carefully took ahold of the informant’s upper arms and lowered him onto the seat next to him. Izaya’s legs fell across his lap and the smaller man groaned in discomfort.

 

“You’re pathetic, flea,” Shizuo commented, shaking his head. A smile he couldn’t stop stretched over his face. “Why does everything have t’be a battle with you?”

 

“What do you mean?” he replied, voice sounding a little strained. He made no move to take his legs off Shizuo’s lap, enjoying the warmth beneath his calves and thighs.

 

“You fight everyone and everything, even if you can’t measure up t’them physically,” the blonde said, running a hand through his hair. He grew aware of the other man’s legs, how cold they were. “It’s dangerous.”

 

“It’s fun.”

 

“It’s weird.”

 

“Are you trying to distract me?” Izaya asked, raising a brow. “Because I wanted t-”

 

“What do you want, Izaya?” Shizuo grunted, turning to look directly in his enemy’s eye. “Stop fucking around with all this cryptic shit and taunting me-”

 

“Taunting you, huh?” Izaya laughed. He rolled his head to the side and looked Shizuo up and down. “I thought grabbing your dick would be enough of an indication of _what I want._ ”

 

Shizuo scowled and pulled the informant closer by the collar of his shirt so that he was practically sitting in his lap. He searched the other man’s face for signs that he was joking but worryingly, Izaya seemed to be sincere for once. “I-”

 

He paused and released the man’s shirt, letting him fall back onto the arm of the sofa. The blonde ruffled his hair and sighed - it would be stupid to deny that he was turned on, that he wanted to reach out and see what the flea felt like. But he hated him, he still fucking hated him, so where was this misplaced emotion coming from? Shizuo blamed it on Izaya’s teasing and cabin fever, that was much easier to reconcile.

 

“I’ll end up hurting you,” he muttered. He dropped the hand in his hair and let it rest on Izaya’s shin.

 

“I didn’t ask you to be gentle,” the informant responded, bluntly. “In fact, I couldn’t stand it if you put any feeling behind it other than your usual blind fury.”

 

Shizuo swallowed, nervously. “You-”

 

“Since when did you give a damn about my wellbeing, monster?” Izaya hissed, a sly smirk appearing on his face. If he had to provoke the other man by making him angry, so be it. “Getting soft in your old age? Or maybe - n’aww, are you falling for me?”

 

The blonde visibly twitched but didn’t move, he just continued to stare blankly at the smaller man. Izaya opened his mouth to continue taunting him but was stopped when the back of Shizuo’s hand struck his cheek. He yelped at the harsh contact but a smug smile still worked its way onto his face, much to the blonde’s annoyance.

 

“I fucking hate you, flea,” Shizuo growled, trying to calm the anger building inside him. Izaya could see the vein in his forehead throbbing as it usually did when they fought. “That wasn’t an excuse not to - it was a warning.”

 

Izaya’s eyes widened in surprise when the blonde shifted over him, so the he was straddling his hips with his arms on either side of the brunette’s head. “Duely noted.”

 

“I will end up hurting you if you wanna carry on with this,” Shizuo continued, fingers clenching the arm of the sofa. “My self-control is shit when it comes to you.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, tell me to get off.”

 

“No,” Izaya replied. He raised his hand and slid it underneath Shizuo’s shirt, stroking over the skin of his waist. He chuckled when the blonde shivered. “Why start worrying about causing me pain now? You don’t seem to give a damn when you’re throwing vending machines at me.”

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together in annoyance. “Because I’m not a monster. I don’t wanna - y’know, lose control and assault you or nothing.”

 

Izaya frowned. “You always assault me.”

 

“That’s not what I mean! I mean in, uh,” he mumbled, having trouble voicing his thoughts. “Sex is different from our usual fighting. It’s more personal, ain’t it? More - I mean, assaulting you like that isn’t something I wanna do. But I just can’t seem to handle stuff gently, so if I go too far, tell me to stop.”

 

Izaya looked at him curiously. “That is oddly considerate. For a monster.”

 

“Shut it.”

 

“Just try not to break my spine,” Izaya chuckled, digging his nails into Shizuo’s waist. “For the record, nothing will change between us. I am still going to kill you one day, Shizu-chan.”

 

“Not if I kill you first,” he replied, dipping his head so that he could lay his lips against Izaya’s throat. He started to plant soft, fleeting kisses against the sensitive skin there, eliciting a pleasant sigh from the other man.

 

Izaya let out a shaky breath, enjoying the feeling of his enemy’s mouth on him. It would just be once, he thought, that was all. That was all he needed to satisfy this strange curiosity and afterwards, he could place all his focus back onto planning a suitable death for the beast. “Just once, that’s all.”

 

Shizuo wondered if Izaya’s quiet comment was meant to be said aloud, but he decided not to ask. Instead, he moved up to the other man’s face and began to kiss him. The hand that was not holding his waist crept into the back of his hair, fingers tugging at the blonde strands and twisting them. It didn’t hurt, but it created enough pressure to cause Shizuo to groan into Izaya’s mouth. He reached down to the hem of the shirt that Izaya was wearing and tugged at it. The informant sat up slightly as Shizuo pulled it away from his torso and they broke their kiss fleetingly to allow him to remove it altogether. The blonde quickly threw the garment to the floor and began to remove his own shirt. Izaya observed the larger man’s chest, scanning the number of scars littering the skin. There were so many, some white and nearly invisible, others a deep, fresh red. In the centre there were two that he recognised and he reached forward so that he could run his fingers over them. They were white, faded but skin was slightly raised, indicating they must have been quite deep cuts. Shizuo remained still as Izaya stroked his skin, watching him curiously.

 

“I gave you those the first time we met,  didn’t I?” Izaya said, softly.

 

“Yeah,” the blonde snarled, grabbing hold of the informant’s wrist and pinning it beside his head. “Most of ‘em are from you.”

 

Izaya chuckled and looked back up into Shizuo’s eyes, enjoying the anger burning in them. “You know, you’ve never left a mark on me.”

 

“Well, I’ll be sure to try harder.”

 

Shizuo leaned in and bit down on the juncture of his neck, hard enough for his canines to break the skin. The informant groaned and his hips bucked as the feeling of pleasurable pain struck him. The blonde leaned back and wiped the blood away from his mouth, smirking down at the flushed man.

 

“Let’s hope that leaves a mark, you won’t even be able to hide it with a shirt.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part coming soon. Will likely just be a chapter of smut but will try and add some development as well if it doesn't get too long.


	7. A burden to bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write this as best I could in character. Hence why the smut is a bit more harsh and discordant than most of my other scenes. More about physical interaction than emotions. 
> 
> Next part soon. Probably more smut.

_He remembers the first and last time he tried to control his anger in front of Izaya Orihara._

 

_It was only the eight o'clock, but the winter months aided the early falling of dusk. The centre of town looked beautiful. Hundreds of fairy-lights adorned lamp-posts, fences and shop-doorways. Frost cracked window panes into bizarre fractals and pure white snow lined the streets. Shizuo had just finished his shift at the bar he was currently working at, located in central Ikebukuro. A woman, a pretty red-head with a foreign name, had been making eyes at him the week before and she’d come back a few times since. He made an effort to be the one who served her - she seemed to like him and he definitely liked her. The woman was in the bar again that night, so he decided to stick around for a few drinks. Nervously, he asked her if she wanted to join him and to his delight she winked, and said yes. He didn’t get much female attention from the locals, his reputation as a violent beast tended to drive them away, so it was pleasant to be able to sit, drink and flirt like a normal man._

 

_The bar was old-fashioned in a way, small, pokey and covered in glittering fairy-lights. The first room contained a shining mahogany bar lined with large bottles of different coloured liquids. The next, which was found up a small, winding set of stairs, contained a number of rustic wooden tables, mismatched chairs and even a couple of old, leather sofas. Candles shoved into wine bottles littered the tables. A number of couples were sat in the room, talking to one another quietly. They sat in the armchairs by the glass window near the entrance and spent a while conversing until Shizuo retreated to the bar for more drinks._

 

_“G &T, double,” he said, loosening his bowtie so that it hung around his neck. “And a white wine.” _

 

_The bartender nodded and began to concoct the requested beverages. Shizuo let out a short sigh and leaned on the bar with the heel of his hands. He let his head flop forward, so he was looking toward the floor. It had been a while since he’d been on anything resembling a date. The woman, Aoife, was beautiful enough to make his palms sweat and smart enough to make him giggle like a schoolgirl. The atmosphere in here was so intimate, it was difficult for him to focus and he prayed nothing caused him to snap. He didn’t want her to see how ugly he could be._

 

_As if on cue, he heard him laugh. His hands clenched the bar hard enough to cause the wood to splinter. His co-worker rushed over and gently shook Shizuo’s shoulder._

 

_“You okay?” he asked, concerned. He gestured to the drinks he had placed beside the blonde. “Here you go, man. On the house.”_

 

_Shizuo took in a deep breath and nodded in thanks, taking a drink in each hand. Maybe if his fists were full he wouldn’t try and fight. Swiftly, he gulped down half of the gin and tonic, hoping the alcohol would help soften the rage already building inside him. He turned slowly and headed back to the table._

 

_“Shizu-chan!”_

 

_He clenched his teeth at the sound of that sing-song voice and he felt a vein pulse in his forehead at the sight of Izaya lounging in his seat. The informant was grinning from ear to ear and Shizuo had to hold his breath before he accidentally let out a growl. Aoife turned around in her seat to face Shizuo and smiled. It was radiant enough for him to suck in another calming breath. He handed her the glass of wine and stood awkwardly by the table. Keep it together, he thought, don’t let him get to you._

 

_“I never knew you had such a beautiful girlfriend, Shizu-chan,” Izaya exclaimed. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, which he was swirling slowly._

 

_“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend,” Aoife laughed, glancing up at Shizuo. She smiled again, as if to say ‘not yet, anyway’._

 

_“What are you doing here, flea?” he managed to grind out. The blonde could feel himself shaking with silent rage and he feared that if he moved he would snap._

 

_“Oh, I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by to see my favourite bartender,” the informant replied, taking a sip of his drink._

 

_Shizuo swallowed thickly, dryness scratching his throat. “Get out.”_

 

_“Now, now,” Izaya murmured, looking up at the blonde through his lashes. His tongue darted out to lap at an errant drop of whiskey that had settled on his bottom lip. “Manners are a virtue.”_

 

_“Izaya-”  Shizuo felt his eye twitch and he took a step forward, clenching his free hand into a fist._

 

_“You wouldn’t want to slip up in front of the lovely Aoife now, would you?” he said, pointedly. The blonde paused and glanced at the woman beside him, who was peering up at him, looking confused. She turned her head to gaze at Izaya._

 

_“How do you know my name?”_

 

_Shizuo stiffened - of course Izaya knew her name. There was not a shred of information in the whole city that he did not have stored in his head. He had been watching them, hadn’t he? The informant was always aware, always present, always waiting for something else to arise that he could destroy. He was trying to ruin every last bit of happiness in Shizuo’s life. The glass in his hand shattered due to the sudden pressure from his fingers and the sharp pieces fell to the floor beside his feet. He let out a low bark and Aoife jumped at the sound and turned to face Shizuo with wide eyes. The blonde’s hand was bleeding, shards of glass were embedded in his palm, but he barely seemed to notice. A deep growl rumbled low in his chest._

 

_“Why can’t you leave me alone?” he snarled, viciously. Aoife shirked away from Shizuo, frightened by the way his body was shaking and his face contorted into a horrible scowl._

 

_A cruel smirk spread over the brunette’s face - that was the reaction he wanted. “Because you don’t deserve to be happy.”_

 

_Red fractured his vision. He let out an angered roar and lunged forward, grabbing Izaya by the throat. He wrenched the smaller man out of the chair as if he weighed little more than a daisy and held him aloft. The flea grinned, he still fucking grinned, even as the blonde choked the air out of him and his face began to turn purple._

 

_“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you piece of shit,” Shizuo snarled, shaking Izaya back and forth. People in the bar were staring in horror and a chorus of startled gasps sounded around him. He shoved the flea back into the wall and a sickening crack rang out from the man’s shoulder. Still, he laughed. Even after Shizuo slammed him down onto the table, sending glass skittering across the floor, he laughed. He laughed when the candle on the table fell over and hot wax splattered across his face._

 

_Izaya let out a raspy laugh and placed his hands over the one crushing his neck. “Go on, show her what you are, monster.”_

 

_Shizuo paused and turned his head to look down at the woman. She was pressed into the back of the armchair, trembling, tearful eyes wide with fright. The sight cooled his anger considerably and he threw the bloodied informant off the table and he flopped to the ground behind him. Izaya laid on the floor, ragged breaths mixing with laughter, while Shizuo took a step toward Aoife._

 

_“Stay away from m-me!” she stammered, holding her hands out in front of her._

 

_“Aoife, I-”_

 

_“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she cried, picking up her coat. She stood and moved to the door. Shizuo held out a hand, though he knew it was useless. This had happened so many times before. “I don’t know what on Earth is going on with you two but that’s no excuse to try and murder someone! Jesus.”_

 

_The woman stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Shizuo took a step to head after her but was halted by a sudden burning pain in his shoulder. He turned his head to see Izaya standing close behind him, a smile on his face and his knife in the blonde’s back. The informant chuckled and twisted it roughly, before yanking it back out._

 

_“Yeah, Shizu-chan, that’s no excuse to try and murder someone,” he said, gleefully. He kicked the back of Shizuo’s knee, forcing him to drop forward. Before the blonde could react, Izaya vaulted over him, using his head for support. He landed a couple of steps in front of him, holding the bloody knife out in front of Shizuo’s face. “You know, I’m surprised that you bleed. Far too human a reaction from the likes of you. I suppose it must be rancid, probably poisonous - don’t ever donate blood, okay?”_

 

_The stab wound hurt, but it wasn’t serious damage, not to Shizuo at least. He raised his head and bared his teeth at the informant. His mind filled with visions of crushing every bone in the man’s body, he wanted him to suffer, he wanted him dead. The rage was encompassing, so strong and raw that it eclipsed any rhyme or reason. But if anything, he was glad. It was almost a comfort. Without it all he would have was the lonely, hollow feeling that sometimes crept upon him in the moments before he fell asleep, a reminder of all the people who had called him a ‘freak’ and turned their back on him, all the people he’d hurt by barely moving a muscle._

 

_“Iz-a-ya,” he bellowed, clambering to his feet._

 

_The flea flashed a final smirk, then disappeared into the night._

 

-0-

 

Shizuo dragged Izaya up from the sofa, never releasing him from the bruising kiss he was smothering on his lips, and shoved him backwards into the bedroom. The informant scraped his hands down the beast’s chest, intending to leave as many marks as he could. His body was aching terribly, but he tried to ignore it and hoped that the blonde would not completely crush his ribcage. He wasn’t being gentle, which pleased Izaya, but he wasn’t tearing him to shreds either. Shizuo pushed him away, separating their kiss, and forcing the smaller man down onto the bed. The blonde stared down at him for a moment and Izaya felt his stomach twist in excitement at the level of lust in his eyes.

 

“This is insane,” Shizuo muttered, turning away from Izaya to retrieve something from the chest of drawers.

 

The informant laughed and shut his eyes. He still didn’t understand quite what brought them here, but he didn’t care anymore. Nothing would change, he told himself, they would keep on fighting, keep on hating. Nothing would change and he’d get to have sex - it was a win-win in his mind.

 

There was silence for a moment, then he heard the monster shift and the bed dip beside his waist. His eyes shot open when he felt Shizuo’s lips press gently against his own. The other man was so warm and soft, it didn’t suit him. Izaya stared at him blankly when he pulled back and gazed down at him through lidded eyes. The informant reached up and patted the blonde’s cheek.

“Yes, it is,” Izaya murmured, tracing Shizuo’s lips with his forefinger. The blonde’s eyes widened and a shiver ran down his spine. The soft touch was soon replaced by a harsh slap. Shizuo’s head snapped back to look at the brunette, a scowl on his face. “That’s the only reason why I want to do it.”

 

“You sure about that?” the blonde asked, raising a brow.

Shizuo trailed his finger down the side of the man’s neck, taking note of the way his pulse was starting to pick up in speed. The blonde chuckled under his breath and stroked down his chest, fingertips barely skimming the skin. He leaned in close to Izaya’s ear and spoke in barely a whisper. The injured man shivered when he heard the way Shizuo breathed roughly, as he always did when he was trying to contain anger or excitement. He had heard it earlier when the man had been battering his torso. He heard it every time they fought. It seemed Izaya was not the only one who was aroused, Shizuo was finally shedding his apprehension.

“‘Cos I think that might not be the only reason,” he said. His gentle actions ceased and he raked his fingernails down an unblemished area of the other man’s chest. The brunette hissed in pain but Shizuo noted the way his eyes dilated. “I think you think I’m hot.”

“Keep dreaming, monster,” Izaya croaked, now breathing heavily. He didn’t know how Shizuo managed to do this to him, how he turned pain in pleasure and left him wanting. He hated this man more than anything in the world, this mockery of a human being. But there was lust that had built through their mutual hatred and it wasn’t going to go away without action. Izaya wasn’t naturally submissive so he wasn’t going to let the monster dominate him, but his body protested too much movement which left him in a weaker position.

“Monster,” Shizuo repeated, softly, tilting his head to one side. His fingers switched back to maddening strokes, moving lower until they flitted along the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. “Are you in too much pain?”

“What?”

Shizuo smirked. “Are you too sore? You know I find it hard to play nice and I don't want to cause serious damage if you’re too weak.”

Izaya scowled - he didn’t like being called weak. He felt his grip on victory slip slightly. “I-”

“And do you want to?” he asked, nimble fingers sliding underneath the waistband every so slightly. He fixed the brunette’s gaze. “You don’t have to say yes. If you ask me to fuck off, I will.”

He hated this game. If he told the monster to get out, he would regret it. If he begged him to continue he might also regret it, he could be letting Shizuo win - it was still too early to tell how the future would play out. For the first time, he was unsure of where to place the next piece, what move to make. When those nimble fingers moved lower and gripped his cock, he knew he had already lost.

“Iz-a-ya” Shizuo said, squeezing gently. “I'm waitin’.”

Izaya took in a deep breath and tried not to moan when the man slid his thumb over the tip. “I - I can handle it, beast.”

The same wolfish grin from Izaya’s dream spread across Shizuo’s handsome face. “Good.”

 

The blonde stood and knelt between Izaya’s thighs on the bed. His free hand pulled the man’s tracksuit bottoms down so that his cock, now hard and already leaking, sprung free, then moved up and slid across his battered torso. Izaya stiffened - he found himself slightly nervous around this Shizuo, he was too collected, too confident.

“Getting turned on by a ‘monster’,” Shizuo said, his voice dark and deep. “Should be ashamed of yourself.”

The informant gasped when he began to gently stroked his cock, then ran his thumb over the dripping head in a way that made his hips buck into the air.

“Fuck you,” he breathed, swallowing thickly. Even if he wanted this ,he wasn’t about to lose his dignity over it.

Shizuo tutted and dug his fingers into one of the bruises on his hip, eliciting a strangled groan from the other man. “You know if you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to be a little nicer to me. Or I might just tie you to the bed and leave on the brink of coming, _Izaya._ ”

He used his name as if it were an insult.

“Ah, didn’t t-take you for a dirty talker, Sh-Shizu-chan,” he panted, as the other man slid his hand quicker and firmer.

“Actually, that sounds like fun,” he continued, scraping a finger down another wound. To his delight, Izaya let out a loud, filthy moan and writhed beneath his hands.

The informant whimpered, growing too lost in the haze of pleasure to push the hand inflicting pain away. Instead he gripped the sheets and twisted them between his fingers.

“You w-wouldn’t dare,” he moaned, hips bucking into the hand that pleasured him. “If you do I’ll kill y-”

It was almost as if his dream had become reality. His words turned into a pained gurgle when grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed tightly, stopping his impending orgasm. The informant opened his mouth to draw in gasping breaths, bucking his hips to try and find release.

“Shiz- fuck, agh!” he cried, eyes looking wildly at the blonde. “D-don’t you fucking _dare._ ”

“Or what?” he answered, impassively. He leaned over Izaya, one hand next to his head, the other still circling his length. The brunette was still panting and Shizuo found himself liking the scarlet flush covering his cheeks. “You look pathetic.”

 

“Fucking...monster.”

 

Izaya tried to wriggle up into the man’s palm, so he pressed down on his throat and glared at him warningly. “You want to come, right?”

 

“Obviously, you stupid fucking idiot!” Izaya snarled. His voice came out a lot more strained and desperate than he intended, which pleased the blonde.

 

“So say please,” Shizuo chuckled.

 

The informant scoffed until the other man dragged his palm very slowly up and down his cock. Izaya’s head fell back, enraptured by the feeling of the warm palm around him and the pressure on his throat. He whimpered - it was a near unbearable feeling to be kept on the edge, not when he was so close-

 

“Please.”

 

Shizuo grinned and squeezed the base of his shaft harder, much to Izaya’s displeasure. “Again.”

 

“Please,” the informant cried, trembling under the strain. His eyes were screwed shut but had he opened them he would have seen the blonde staring down at him hungrily.

 

“Again.”

 

Shizuo’s thumb rolled over the swollen head and Izaya beat his fist against the duvet. “Fucking please, Shizuo.”

 

The beast left his hand around Izaya’s neck but leaned down so that he could take the brunette’s cock into his mouth. He hummed with pleasure when he heard the shriek that emitted from the other man and felt his hips shake. He kept his hips in place with the hand that still circled his cock and refused to release it even as he began to slide his mouth up and down the shaft. Saliva pooled in his mouth and ran slick along the skin, causing grotesque slurping noises to be made.

 

Izaya felt like he was going crazy. It felt so good, but the pressure was burning, his entire body was twitching, aching for release. His dignity seemed to have taken a holiday. “Please let go, please p-please please-”

 

When Shizuo finally released him, he pressed his hand against his pelvic bone to keep him in place and began to suck fervently. Izaya let out a howl as an orgasm hit him like a truck, sending pleasure exploding through his body. His limbs seemed to move of their own accord and he grabbed Shizuo’s hair as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. Eventually, his loud cry turned into a strangled gasp and he fell back against the covers, spent. He stared up at the ceiling, shaking, and heard Shizuo spit the contents of his mouth into the cup on the beside table. A wry smile worked its way onto his face - how unfair, that the monster would be the one to give him the best blowjob of his life. So far, at least.

 

“That was the worst blowjob I've ever had,” he lied, chuckling to himself. As if he’d tell him the truth, he thought.

 

“Didn't seem like that when you were begging me to let you come,” Shizuo retorted, crawling back up over the informant’s chest. He smirked at the smaller man, who was still flushed and sweaty. “You’re a mess, flea.”

 

Izaya didn’t say anything, he just continued glaring, too exhausted to move at that moment. Shizuo didn’t seem to care if he was tired and dragged his sweatpants fully off his legs so that the informant lay completely naked in front of him. Izaya felt uncomfortable under his scrutinising gaze and turned his head to the side. The beast seemed to be completely comfortable removing his own clothes and quickly discarded them on the floor.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he muttered, irritably.

 

“No way, pervert. The less evidence this happened the better,” he snorted, moving back over the other man. His expression softened slightly, though his brow was still furrowed. “You got a preferred position for this? Something uh, more comfortable?”

 

Izaya didn’t understand how the monster was speaking and moving with such ease. Earlier, he had seemed almost frightened by the prospect - and the informant liked that, he didn’t want Shizuo to be as comfortable with this as he was. It was as if he had given up on any internal struggle and decided to give in - then why did Izaya feel like he was losing this battle? The blonde waved a hand in front of his eyes to grab his attention.

 

“Earth to dickhead,” he said, frowning. “Did you hear me?”

 

“From behind,” he snapped, scowling. “So I don’t have to see your stupid face.”

 

“Doesn’t seem wise,” Shizuo commented. “You could crack your ribs more.”

 

“It’s up to me, isn’t it?” Izaya grumbled. “I’ll tell you if it ends up hurting.”

 

Shizuo eyed him for a moment, then sighed and flipped him onto his front. He sat back on his knees and pulled Izaya’s hips up so that they were raised away from the bed. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“I didn’t think you would enjoy this so much.”

 

“I didn’t think you would.”

 

Izaya frowned and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when a wet, cold finger slid into his ass. Shizuo laughed and raked his nails down the other man’s backside, leaving raw, red marks in his wake. The informant grunted as the finger started to slide in and out, finger curling pleasurably with each stroke.

 

“Would you prefer it if I didn't enjoy it?” Shizuo asked, amused by his reactions. He liked the way Izaya’s hands fisted the sheets when he twisted his hand. “That's fucked up, ‘zaya.”

 

“You seem to have forgotten you're, fuck- you're meant to hate me.”

 

Shizuo chuckled and leaned over Izaya’s back, pulling him up by his hair so that he could speak close to his ear.

 

“Don't you worry ‘bout that, flea. I still hate you.” He slid another finger in alongside the first and twisted them enough to make Izaya shudder. The beast smirked and wrenched the man’s head back further, hard enough to make him hiss in pain. “In fact, making the man who hates me the most cry and beg me to let him come - _that_ feels like winning.”

 

Izaya went to elbow the beast in the face, but he quickly caught it. The blonde released his hair and pushed him face first into the duvet by pressing roughly between his shoulders.

 

“Such a filthy mouth,” Izaya said, voice muffled by the duvet. He keened when Shizuo grabbed his cock with his free hand and began to stroke it softly. “Ngh - fuck!”

 

“I think that’s enough,” the blonde mused, letting his lube-slick fingers slide out from the other man’s ass. He picked up the discarded bottle of lubricant and slathered it over his length, shuddering at the cold sensation. He peered at Izaya’s trembling form and raised a brow. “You sure you wanna go on?”

 

The informant turned his head to look at the other man, eyes blazing. “Stop asking stupid questions, monster. Just shut up and fuck me.”

 

Shizuo grinned and positioned himself at Izaya’s entrance. The brunette let his head drop back to the bed and he clenched the sheets tightly as the blonde started to push forward. It hurt, fuck it hurt, but he kept his teeth grit tightly together to stop any pained cries from escaping. Shizuo was going slowly, again being oddly considerate despite hating the person he was fucking. Izaya wondered how long the beast would be able to control himself, if he lost it during sex like he did during their fights.

 

“Hurry up, animal,” he whined, drawing in a shaky breath.

 

“So,” Shizuo grunted, punctuating his words with two rough, quick thrusts. “Impatient.”

 

Izaya bit down on his lip. It hurt, it really hurt - but that was what he wanted. He wanted to be reminded that this was Shizuo; violent, wild, monstrous. He didn't want to associate the blonde animal with tenderness, or care. He wanted it to hurt.

 

“Shizu-ch-”

 

“It’s Shizuo!” the blonde growled, grabbing a handful of Izaya’s hair. He thrust forward again and pulled the other man’s head roughly back. Izaya let out a sharp yelp, which brought a smirk to his face. “You’re so tight, flea.”

 

“Shut up,” the informant said, through pants.

 

“No.”

 

“So annoying.”

 

The blonde released the man’s hair and pushed down on his shoulders so that he could lean over him, arms on either side of his torso. Izaya shut his eyes and listened to the sounds of Shizuo breathing harshly above him and their skin slapping messily against one another. The pain was started to lessen and the beginnings of pleasure were coursing through him. The larger man twisted his hips and Izaya moaned loudly into the pillow. When he opened his eyes again he saw Shizuo’s hands curling into the sheets beside his head. The blonde rutted against the smaller man wildly, biting into his shoulder hard enough to make him groan.

 

“F-fuck,” Izaya sighed. “Harder.”

 

“Not sure you can t-take it, flea,” Shizuo taunted, pressing his lips against the other man's neck.

 

Izaya scoffed and glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, his usual smirk on his face. “Try me.”

 

Shizuo grinned and leaned back, taking the informant's hips in his hands. “If you insist.”

 

The blonde thrust forward, forcing Izaya to slide up the bed and he reached out to stop himself from banging into the headboard. Shizuo clenched his hips harder to keep him in place and started to fuck him relentlessly. Izaya’s mouth hung open and he pressed his face into the pillows to muffle his moans as Shizuo pounded into him hard. The feeling was dizzying, and when the larger man reached down to grab his cock he felt as if he would explode.

 

“Izaya,” the monster breathed. He scraped a finger down the informant's spine, nail raking over each bone. He felt the informant begin to shake beneath him and knew he was close. Shizuo leaned over his back and bit down on his neck, groaning as he felt the other man clench around him. “Come for me.”

 

Izaya jerked and let out a harsh cry, panting as an orgasm shook his body. “Shizuo-fuck, feels go-”

 

The monster grunted as he reached his own peak and pleasure blinded him. His elbows buckled and he fell forward onto Izaya’s back, breathing heavily. A minute passed, then Shizuo turned over so that he landed on his back beside the other man. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as sweat clung to his fingers. The two men lay in strangely comfortable silence for a moment until Izaya turned onto his back and let out a content sigh.

 

“This is the first and last compliment I will give you, Shizu-chan,” he said, his voice breathy. He glanced over at the blonde and flashed him a nasty grin. “You’re a pretty good fuck.”

 

“Shut up,” Shizuo replied, eyes closing tiredly. “Stupid flea.”

 

Izaya chuckled - he wasn’t being sarcastic for once, but there was no reason to let Shizuo know that. He relaxed into the soft bed and shut his eyes, exhausted. The informant couldn’t be bothered to worry about the monster’s proximity yet, he was far too tired. In the morning, yes, he thought, in the morning he would contemplate what just happened between them. Until then, sleep.

  



	8. A shark-like smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part coming soon. 
> 
> Probably going to turn this into something longer than expected.

Shizuo woke up again at midnight to find Izaya staring at him. It was dark but he could still make out the sharp features of the other man’s face and his skin was so pale that it stood out amongst the blackness. It only took a second after his eyes opened for the informant to shove his lips over the other man’s. Pushing him away didn’t even cross his mind, the blonde simply laid back and let him do as he pleased, a luxury he never thought he would allow Orihara. The smaller man sat on his lap and wrapped his hands around his neck so that he could pull him into a sitting position. Shizuo groaned and moved away from the kiss, head still heavy from sleep, but he propped himself up on his hands so that he could look at the brunette. Izaya was eyeing him closely and one of his hands slid into the back of Shizuo’s ruffled hair.

 

“What you want, flea?” he mumbled, yawning.

 

Izaya didn't say anything, but his dark eyes narrowed slightly. It was an odd look that he wore, even Shizuo could tell that he was troubled by something. Not exactly worried, but whatever he was thinking at that time was making him uncomfortable. The blonde didn't linger on what that might be for too long, worried that it may be the same thing that was playing on his own mind.

 

‘ _Things can not go back to the way they were’._

 

“Oi,” he muttered, looking down at the hand that still encircled his neck, then back up at Izaya. He felt the man’s fist curl in his hair. “What's the matter?”

 

“Nothing,” Izaya hummed, softly. He loosened the hand in Shizuo’s hair and began to stroke it gently. He wasn't sure why and at that moment he didn't see the need for a reason other than ‘it looked soft’. “I was having trouble sleeping because my ribs were hurting. You looked too peaceful, so I wanted to disturb you.”

 

“Bastard,” the blonde replied, rubbing his tired eyes with his knuckles. “Well, can I go back to sleep now?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ugh, then what?”

 

“What do you think I want to do?” Izaya chuckled, the sound low in his chest. He let the hand on Shizuo’s neck trail down his chest and smiled when the beast let out a grunt of approval.

 

“Oh,” Shizuo replied, surprised. “You mean again?”

 

“Just shut up, meat-head,” the informant sighed. He pressed on Shizuo’s chest and pushed him back down to the bed, lowering his own aching body on top of the other man. The blonde was so warm, he wanted to press every limb against his skin and soak it up. It felt strangely safe and comforting, despite it emanating from the loathed beast. “I'm in pain, so let me control the pace. Can you manage that, you rampant animal?”

 

Shizuo scowled darkly and clenched the sheets beneath his hands tightly, so that he wouldn't punch the him. “Yes.”

 

Izaya laughed and started to draw lazy circles on the blonde’s chest with his fingertips. They slowly dipped lower, over his stomach, then hips. “A civilised answer. It seems you're learning, Shizu-chan.”

 

A singular digit stroked the length of his hardening cock and a groan escaped him.

 

“Be quiet,” the informant ordered. Izaya crawled down his body, working his length with one hand, and scratching the tender area of his inner thigh with the other. After positioning himself over him, he lowered his head and lightly licked the tip of his cock. Shizuo groaned loudly, but seeing the glare he gave him, bit his tongue.  
  
Izaya moved slowly, taking his time to slide up and down the hardened shaft and roll his tongue across the skin. He didn't drool as much as Shizuo had done but that didn't make the experience uncomfortable - quite the opposite. His mouth was so hot and narrow, that the blonde was choking on growls and grunts that threatened to leave his lips but he held back by biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. He ran his hands through Izaya’s hair and then let them drop to his sides. It took all his self control not to grip the informant’s hair and fuck senselessly into his mouth until he came but he didn't want to rush, not when Izaya felt so good.

 

“Fuck-” he growled, hips buckling upward.

 

The informant moved away from his cock and crawled up his body, hands rest on either side of his head. Shizuo  observed him silently, panting slightly from the sudden absence of pleasure. The two men remained in silence as Izaya lowered himself onto the blonde’s cock, wincing as he did. Shizuo gasped and opened his mouth to make a comment, but paused when the other man pressed his forehead against his own. The brunette placed one hand on the blonde’s cheek, which caused Shizuo to stiffen. What was Izaya doing, he thought, he was being abnormally gentle. The smaller man started to move his hips slowly up and down and Shizuo let out a satisfied groan.

 

Izaya smiled just before he initiated another kiss and the sight nearly blinded the blonde. He had never seen the informant smile like that, he looked content, he looked _happy_. Panic started to rise inside the monster and he squeezed his eyes shut. It had to be false, all Izaya’s faces were false. Shizuo swallowed his worries and cast every thought from his head, simply revelling in the pleasurable feeling of his enemy on top of him.

 

-0-

 

Izaya woke up alone. The clock on the bedside table told him it was one o’clock in the afternoon. Light was streaming in from under the curtains and he could hear rain splattering against the window. Another miserable day. He could hear noise coming from the kitchen and the smell of meat - presumably Shizuo was making himself breakfast. The informant’s stomach rumbled but he didn’t move. His body ached terribly, fucking the beast twice had probably been a bad idea in that respect. A smirk pulled at his lips - hell, it had probably been a bad idea altogether, but there was no going back now. Izaya laughed lightly and shook his head as he turned onto his side so that he could retrieve his discarded sweatpants. He wanted his own clothes back. The man made his way toward the door, pausing momentarily to view himself in the small mirror on the chest of drawers. He grimaced at the sight of the bite marks on his neck and chest that stained his skin alongside the multitude of knife wounds. How distasteful, he thought, reaching for one of Shizuo’s discarded shirts to cover the damage. He limped into the living room and leaned against the doorframe, watching the other man as he moved about the kitchen.

 

“Oi,” he called, curling one arm around his wounded side. He winced and let out a deep breath. “Shizu-chaaaan.”

 

The blonde turned around to face him, a sizzling frying pan in hand. A familiar scowl crossed his face, which Izaya found oddly comforting. He was right, nothing had changed. “You look like shit, flea.”

 

“Do you say that to all your bedfellows?” he chided, playfully.

 

Shizuo’s scowl darkened. “Shut up.”

 

Izaya snickered under his breath and moved slowly over to sit on the stool by the counter. “Do you have any coffee?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re being extra-mean today, Shizu-chan.”

 

The beast glowered and clenched the handle of the saucepan so hard that it cracked beneath his fingers. He grunted in irritation and threw it into the sink. A cloud of steam emerged from where the water hit the hot metal and heated the room considerably.

 

“You should get a shower. Shinra will be here soon,” he muttered, picking up his own mug of coffee.

 

Izaya eyed him curiously. “I thought he wasn’t going to be here until the end of the week?”

 

“Yeah, well, change of plan. He called this morning to let me know he’s comin’ back early so he said he’ll come and get you tonight.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Shizuo frowned and turned away from Izaya, slightly perturbed by the odd expression on his face. “‘Oh’? Why ‘oh’?”

 

Izaya hesitated for a moment. Why did he say that, he thought, and why did he feel a little uncomfortable? The man felt too warm and he wasn’t sure if it was from the steam or the flush on his cheeks. He had expected that their sleeping together would have affected Shizuo in some way, he had rather hoped to see the man a blushing, embarrassed mess this morning but he was acting with the same gruff irritation as usual.

 

“No reason, Shizu-chan. Just surprised. Shinra is never early.”

 

“I see,” the blonde replied, blankly. When he turned back to face the informant, he had another cup of coffee in his hand. “Milk?”

 

“No.”

 

Shizuo placed the piping hot drink in front of the other man and leaned against the counter. “Your clothes are in the bathroom, they should be dry by now.”

 

The informant narrowed his eyes and snatched the coffee into his hand. “So, monster, I see you’re planning on ignoring the elephant in the room? How predictable.”

 

“I don’t see what I could possibly have t’say,” Shizuo replied, grip tightening on the counter. The brunette noticed fractures appearing beneath the other man’s fingertips. “Did you think sleeping with me would stop me from hating you?”

 

The informant stiffened, annoyed. “Obviously not, Shizu-chan.”

 

“So what do you expect me to say?” he growled, removing his hands from the counter before he snapped it in half.

 

Izaya stared at him blankly. What did he want the monster to say, he mused. He wanted recognition, some glimmer that Shizuo was affected - he pushed the words ‘like I am’ out of his head - by what had happened between them. Even if it was just for a moment and then they went back to their usual ways, Izaya wanted _something._ But he would rather cut off his own legs than admit that to the scowling monster in front of him, so he just plastered a smirk on his face and gave a short snicker.

 

“Well, I was rather hoping you had fallen in love with me,” he drawled, sarcastically. He raised the mug of coffee to his lips and winced as the liquid burned his mouth. “After all, if that happened I could really use your strength to help me get information from people.”

 

Shizuo gave a noise of disgust. “Hell will freeze over before that happens, flea.”

 

Izaya placed the mug back down and rested his chin on the heel of his hand. “Y’know, in ‘The Divine Comedy’, the ninth circle of Hell, ‘Cocytus’, is a frozen lake.”

 

“So?”

 

“So,” Izaya continued, flashing him a grin. “You’d make quite a fitting Satan, buried up to his waist in ice.”

 

“Yeah, and I’d be chewing on your fucking head, flea.”

 

The informant chuckled and pushed himself off the stool with a pained grunt. “I suppose that’s true.”

 

As he started to head toward the bathroom, he felt a hand land on his shoulder and he quickly turned his head to look at Shizuo. The blonde was staring at him, a stern look on his face.

 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, brows furrowing.

 

“I’ve been stabbed.”

 

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

 

Izaya grinned and shook the blonde’s hand off his shoulder, continuing on his journey to the shower. “Don’t worry your dense little head about it, monster. I’m always fine.”

 

Shizuo stared at his retreating back until the door to the bathroom swung shut, then he let out a deep sigh. What a mess, he thought, running a hand through his hair. He kept repeating the same sentence over and over in his head. _I still hate him. I still hate him. I still hate him._ When he had woken earlier that day, he’d spent a couple of minutes observing the sleeping informant. He looked strangely sweet when he was deep in slumber, not quite peaceful, but less tense than usual. Shizuo didn’t touch him at all, as much as he found himself wanting to. Deep purple bruises left from the blonde’s teeth marred his neck and shoulders - he wondered if he had been too rough, but quickly cast the thought away. Izaya had pretty much begged him to go harder, it was his own fault.

 

He definitely didn’t linger on the image of _that_ smile.

 

Shizuo searched his pockets for a cigarette and lit one hastily. He breathed in the harsh fumes deeply, hoping that they would help settle his nerves. This was bad. He should have pushed the flea away, told him to fuck off. The man opened his mouth to let the smoke drip slowly out. There was no going back on what happened but Shizuo was more than happy to pretend it never did. He made a decision to carry on as before the minute Izaya left his apartment. Back to fighting, back to trying to kill one another. Even if they had fucked, he really did still hate him.

 

Three sharp raps on the front door drew his attention.

 

-0-

 

_Izaya can remember the first time Shizuo injured him quite clearly. It was during one of their routine chases across the city, they must have been around eighteen at the time. Prior to this the monster had never been able to lay a finger -or signpost - on him and the informant had gotten cocky._

 

_They were tearing through the streets of Ikebukuro, barely more than flashes of black and yellow amongst the buildings. Izaya rounded a corner and turned into an alleyway, thinking that the beast had gotten confused and taken another turning, only to run head-first into the man’s chest. At first he thought the hard surface was a wall and fell back onto the floor with a grunt but as soon as he looked up, his face paled._

 

_“Iz-a-ya,” the larger man growled, reaching out._

 

_The informant scrabbled to his feet but for once Shizuo was quicker and yanked him back by the fur-lined hood of his jacket. He was forcibly spun around and slammed back into the wall of the alley, causing the air to wheeze out of his lungs. Izaya felt panic start to surge inside him, but he kept his face in its usual smug expression as best he could._

 

_“Kill you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”_

 

_“Shizu-ch-” he began. His words were cut off when he saw the blonde’s fist heading rapidly toward him and he moved quickly to the side to avoid impact. The punch was hard enough to crack the concrete where his head had been and his eyes widened in fright. He knew Shizuo despised him, the blonde was always hollering about how much he would like to kill him, but this was the first time that he believed those words to be true. The hand that wasn’t embedded in the wall caught the collar of his v-neck shirt and hauled him off the ground, so that he was level with Shizuo’s eyes. He held onto that hand, trying to pry it off and kicked his feet aimlessly in the air. He remembers that feeling of helplessness starkly, even in the present day. The beast was so strong, so overpowering in that one moment that he felt like a child. Izaya told himself not to panic, assured himself that he would escape, he always did. Shizuo jerked him into his chest, so that his forehead rested against the brunette’s._

 

_“Pathetic,” he hissed. He shoved Izaya back against the wall, causing his head to smack hard against the concrete. Stars danced in front of his vision and he prayed that he wouldn’t pass out. The monster repeated the action several times, pulling him in then smashing his body into the alley wall hard enough that Izaya heard his right shoulder blade crunch unpleasantly. The informant let out an anguished cry and, before the blonde could shove him back again, retrieved his flick-knife from his pocket and stabbed it into Shizuo’s forearm._

 

_“Ah -fuck!” the monster roared, taking a step back. He released Izaya’s collar and let him fall to the ground. He tore the blade out of his skin and flexed his hand, growling as blood started to seep out of the wound and stain his white shirt. “Izaya!”_

 

_The informant hadn’t stuck around to get his knife, he was already tearing through the streets, eyes watering from the pain in his shoulder. Adrenaline drove him all the way to Shinra and Celty’s door, which he knocked upon and then promptly passed out on the welcome mat. He remembers the last thought that went through his head before he fell into unconsciousness._

 

_‘Do not underestimate that monster.’_

 

-0-

Izaya emerged from the bathroom an hour later. He still looked sickly and bruised, but he was clean and now that he was wearing his own clothes, Shizuo felt as if things were already going back to normal.

 

“I had to use another bandage for my shoulder,” he commented, throwing the first aid kit at the blonde, who was sat on the sofa. “You’ll need to get more.”

 

“I should charge you,” he retorted, flicking his third cigarette into the ash-tray.

 

“As if,” Izaya scoffed. Shizuo glowered at the informant as he limped over to the armchair opposite and gently lowered himself into the seat. “Fuck, when is Shinra getting here, I think you shattered my collar bo-”

 

“Izaya!”

 

Izaya flinched when their mutual friend’s voice called out from across the room. The informant scowled at Shizuo, then turned his head slowly to look at the doctor who was emerging from the spare room. He smiled widely and made his way over to the two men, laughing lightly.

 

“Never did I think I’d see the day when you two would sit so civilly in the same room!” Shinra exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “See, I always said guys would get along eventually.”

 

“We’re not getting along,” the pair of them growled, almost in unison.

 

Shinra chuckled, amused by the dark glares they were giving him. “Jeez, if looks could kill.”

 

“Shinra,” Shizuo warned, clenching a fist at his side.

 

“Calm down, Shizuo,” he sighed, holding up his hands in defence. “I was only joking. Now, Izaya, do you have all your things? I’ve got a car waiting outside.”

 

“A car?” Izaya repeated.

 

The doctor glanced at Shizuo and sent him a smirk. “How hard did he hit his head?”

 

“Shut up, Shinra. My head is fine,” Izaya snapped. He stood up shakily and gripped his aching side. “Let’s go.”

 

His friend chuckled and got to his feet. Before Izaya could protest, he ducked, so that one of the informant’s arms was around his neck. Shinra laced his arm around his waist so that he could support him better and ignored the way the other man glared daggers at him.

 

“Aren’t you going to thank Shizuo for looking after you?” Shinra asked, raising a brow at him. The doctor reached forward and opened the front door, giving the two enemies their first breath of fresh air in a while.

 

Izaya glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, who was now standing upright behind them. The monster stared back blankly, so he shook his head and looked through the open door at the grey sky outside.

 

“I don’t have anything to say thank you for. Let’s go.”

 


	9. Decisions, decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izaya-heavy chapter here. Next part up soon.

_When the car pulled away Izaya pictured the beast crying. He saw him whimpering as his leaned over him, mid-coitus and imagined himself tearing out his tongue with his teeth. The monster was warm but he wanted him cold and dead in the ground._

 

_When Shizuo heard the engine start he envisioned the informant below him. He saw himself pouring kerosene over the man’s back and setting him on fire as he fucked him. The flea was always so cold that he would probably be doing him a favour._

 

-0-

 

A month passed.

 

Izaya didn’t like peace but sometimes it could not be avoided. Shinra told him that he needed to rest or else - he wasn’t quite sure what the ‘or else’ entailed but he knew better than to question the doctor when he gave stern orders. The informant despised being bored, he hated quiet and he loathed watching the clock on his desk, waiting for the minutes to pass. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He was recovering well, though his ribs still ached on occasion, especially when he twisted at the hips. The stab wound on his shoulder Ieft a scar, much to his chagrin, but thankfully all of the marks left by Shizuo had faded away to nothing. He leaned back in his chair and swallowed thickly - he hadn’t been to Ikebukuro since his time at the monster’s apartment and he hadn’t contacted the blonde either. There was no need to, he told himself, there was nothing to be said. He yawned and began to drum his fingers rhythmically against his cheek. It was seven o'clock on a Thursday, what the fuck was there to do? This boredom had to be remedied or he would go mad. He sighed dramatically and removed his flick-knife from his pocket so that he could fiddle with it. If he didn’t do something, his mind would undoubtedly drift to a topic he was less than willing to muse over - _Shizuo Heiwajima_. He looked over at his secretary, who was gathering her belongings to leave. A distraction, that was what he needed.

 

“Namie,” he whined, stabbing the knife into the table absentmindedly. “I’m. Bored.”

 

“Not my problem,” she replied, curtly.

 

Namie stood and headed for the exit without cast her employer a further glance. As she started to pull the door open, a hand slammed down beside her head and halted her action. Her eyes widened for a second when she saw his flick blade sticking out of the wood, only inches from her ear. She spun around to see Izaya standing close behind her, a wide grin on his face. He placed his free hand on the other side of her head, caging her against the door. The woman stared back at him, her expression irritatingly impassive.

 

"What do you want, scumbag?"

 

"How unpleasant," he responded, his smirk dropping slightly. Though he still hadn't moved any further toward her, she remained tense. “I said that I’m bored.”

 

The woman grit her teeth together tightly. "And I repeat: not my problem."

 

He cocked his head to the side, giving her a coy smile. "You’re my secretary, aren’t you?"

 

It took all her power not to hit him straight in his smug face. "Find a way to amuse yourself, asshole. That’s not in my job description."

 

The man sighed and span her around, shoving her backward so that she was in the centre of the room. Namie yelped as she was sent toppling to the floor and quickly scrambled to her feet when she heard the door slam shut. Izaya chuckled and flicked the light-switch. The apartment was now cast into a state of darkness, the only source of light coming from the dim cityscape outside. It was enough to see the dangerous glint in his eyes when she scrambled to her feet and searched for him in the gloom.

 

"Now, now," Izaya chided. "You should be trying to make me happy, Namie. I’m the one who signs your paychecks, after all. You don’t want to piss me off, do you?"

 

The woman drew in a sharp breath, the same anxiety as before tightening her chest. Namie wasn’t the type to be afraid of anything, but something about Izaya always put her on edge. She knew all the vile things he did to people, after all, she was the one who filed them neatly away in the cabinets in his office. Her stomach turned when she saw his dark expression and the two of them stood in silence for a moment before she finally found the courage to speak.

 

"I don’t care," she exclaimed. Hastily, she shoved her hands against his chest and pushed him back toward the door. "I’m going home."

 

He lurched forward, grabbing her forearms with his hands. She flinched at the sudden contact and started to fight back but soon found herself thrown roughly against the wall behind her. Izaya pressed his hands beside her head and one of his knees forced itself between her legs. Namie yelped as she felt his thigh pressing against her crotch and his chest crush against hers. He covered her so completely that she found it nearly impossible to move. This was unusual - the man was never physical with her, before tonight he’d barely touched her.

 

"So feisty,” Izaya chuckled as she pushed her hands against his chest. He gave her a filthy smile. “I like it.”

 

"Fuck you, Izaya!" Namie snapped, angrily.

 

"You're so mean," he peered down at her and leaned closer, laughing lightly as she turned her head away from him. "You can amuse me for a little while, can’t you?"

 

"What?" Namie replied, confused.

 

Izaya hated the way she unconsciously trembled when she felt his breath on her skin and she jerked her head as far to the side as she could. He just wanted her to distract him, didn’t she understand? Someone else’s touch, her touch, might be what he needed to erase the memory of the beast’s touch on his skin. His pulse started to race, not because of nerves, but due to something he daren't think about. Namie tensed when she felt his forehead press against her temple and his lips brush her cheek. He was far too close for comfort but she still couldn't push the bastard off - he was stronger than he looked, even when still recovering from being beaten up. She felt him smile against her skin and his lips moved close to her ear.

 

"Fuck me,” he murmured, softly.

 

The woman spluttered and shook her head rapidly from side to side, forcing him to withdraw slightly. She made a series of loud exclamations and started to kick her legs, trying to lever him away from her. The man sighed irritably and rolled his eyes.

 

"Let me go now, asshole!" she growled, almost baring her teeth at him. She was furious and the strange feeling in her stomach was aggravating her, causing further panic. "How dare you suggest such things?"

 

Izaya smiled wickedly at her. "Keep thrashing around like that, it feels good."

 

Instantly, Namie stilled her movements and fixed him with a severe glare. "You're sick."

 

"You're no fun," the informant snickered. He moved one of his arms and gripped her chin in his fingers. "So, how about it?"

 

"Absolutely no-"

 

"Come on, Namie, I'm so bored. And I know you're lonely," he taunted, clenching her face tighter. He knew she was just as solitary as he was, she would understand. The woman grunted in pain and placed a hand against his shoulder, trying to push him away. "Seiji doesn't want you, but I do. For tonight, at least.”

 

Namie gave one more push using all the force she could muster and finally Izaya stumbled back a few steps. The man frowned at her and grit his teeth together, causing his jawbone to protrude beneath the skin of his cheek. He didn't like not getting what he wanted, it wasn't something he was used to. The woman flicked the light back on and shot him a deathly stare.

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Bitch.”

 

The woman pushed past him, shoving her shoulder roughly against his as she passed and headed toward the door. “I’m leaving.”

 

“Nam-”

 

She turned and fixed him with a vicious glare. “Unless you’re planning on adding rape to your list of committed atrocities?”

 

Izaya pushed his hands into his pockets and his gaze darkened. After a moment his expression changed and he beamed at her. He waved a hand and span around on his heel, looking away from her. “See you tomorrow, Namie. Have a pleasant evening.”

 

The woman scoffed and turned to open the door. “If you’re so desperate for a fuck why don’t you go to Ikebukuro and chase down your monstrous boyfriend?”

 

A pang of anger hit him at the mention of the beast. He knew Namie was a clever woman but there was no way she could have worked out what happened between him and Shizuo, he had been so careful to cover the bite marks and scratches ever since returning home. She was just taunting him, he reassured himself, that was all.

 

“Ugh, don’t say such ridiculous things,” he snorted. He felt his left eye twitch - a tick that had been with him since childhood and only appeared when he was nervous or annoyed.

 

“You’re pathetic.”

 

When he turned back, Namie was gone and the door was closed. He crossed the room so that he could sit on the sofa, laying back so that he could rest his hands behind his head. Slowly, he shut his eyes and his smile faded. He wasn’t attracted to Namie, not at all, he simply needed a distraction. It was true that he was bored, but that wasn’t all he was trying to escape. Now that he was alone and there was nothing but silence, he could feel melancholy seeping in. He opened his now-vacant eyes and stared at the ceiling. There was a reason he filled his life with endless, chaotic schemes - to avoid the hollow feeling he experienced whenever he was on his own. The informant wanted nothing more than to be a part of the world outside, to be loved by the humans he adored so very much, but it seemed an impossible goal. He was an observer, a set of eyes and ears, a nobody. Izaya despised feeling so removed, so alone, he would do anything to keep it at bay. The muscle beneath his eye twitched again.

 

Somewhere in the sadness, the image of Shizuo entered his mind. He clenched his fist - he’d been trying to avoid thinking about the man. Perhaps he would take a bath and listen to the radio, he thought, sitting upright. He ran a hand through his hair. Anything was better than letting the silence sink into his skin. It was in those moments that he remembered the closest thing he’d had to intimacy in recent memory was with a man he hated. Izaya stood and headed toward the bathroom, shoving his hands into his pockets. He would have to kill Shizuo soon, he was sick of thinking about him, sick of wondering if he had made a mistake somewhere along the line.

 

Perhaps the mistake was sleeping with the monster. Perhaps it was thinking he would be able to carry on as normal. Perhaps it was pretending nothing ever affected him. Izaya opened the door to the bathroom and frowned as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror opposite. He looked better than he had in months but he didn’t feel it. He turned the hot tap over the bath on and watched as the steaming water gushed out. Despite his desire for closeness, the informant had always kept others at an emotional distance. It was better that way, it saved him from getting hurt. He sighed and reached for the large bottle of bubble bath on the counter.

 

Izaya moved back to the bath and checked the temperature with his little finger. Bathing had always been his preferred method of relaxation. There was nothing quite like closing his eyes, slipping under the warm, perfumed water and drifting off to some imaginary land. Some place far better than this, filled with fawning humans who he could love. He emptied the last of the bottle into the water, reminding himself to buy more on his next trip out. Bubbles sprang up from amongst the froth as he lowered himself into the water, shutting off the tap as he hit the bottom of the tub. Izaya let out a soft sigh. It had been a while since he had found any peace. The last time she felt like this must have been during the twilight beside Shizuo. He shut his eyes. _Monster._  He frowned. Why did he keep going back to these thoughts? What were these urges he kept experiencing? Perhaps he was losing his mind. He slipped under the water, closing his eyes as it passed over his head. After a couple of seconds under, he pushed himself back up, wiping the excess water from his eyes.

 

He couldn’t remain in this state of confusion forever, it would only be a hinderance. Izaya settled his arms over the back of the tub. If he couldn’t force his mind to forget about Shizuo, then he only had two options - kill him or capture him. As he sunk beneath the warm water again, he chuckled. He would go to Ikebukuro as soon as he was back on form and decided which route to take when he saw the monster face to face. For once, he wouldn’t plan ahead, he’d go with his gut.

 

-0-

 

Two months passed.

 

Shizuo hadn't seen hide nor hair of the informant since he left his apartment and he couldn't help but be a little relieved. He tried not to think about the flea, tried to ignore the slight want to see him strolling around the streets of Ikebukuro again.  In a way, Shizuo wanted to see him to prove to himself that nothing had changed, that they were enemies as ever. When he inquired, Shinra let him know that he had taken Izaya back to his home in Shinjuku and that his injuries were not too serious, nothing that wouldn't heal perfectly given time and rest. He couldn't picture Izaya resting but given his absence from the city he must have obeyed the doctor’s orders.

 

Tom made a full recovery and the two of them were back on the streets, back to their usual routine of catching scumbags, back to normal. The pair had finished for the day and were holed up in a small bar in the centre of the city, drinking away the cares of the day. Shizuo didn't remember the place until they took a seat near the window - this was the bar in which he had met Aoife, where he had nearly killed Izaya. He grimaced and swallowed a mouthful of gin and tonic. Fucking typical, he thought, even when he’s not around, the flea is still making him angry.

 

“Everything okay?” Tom asked, noticing the way his friend tensed up.

 

Shizuo turned his head and nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Jus’ thinking about something.”

 

“You sure?” he said, raising a brow. “You’ve been acting a bit odd for a while now, dude. If it’s because I got hurt then you’ve really nothing to be worried about.”

 

“I-,” Shizuo paused. It would do no good to tell anyone about what was bothering him, not even his closest friend. “Nah, it’s nothing. I think I’m coming down with flu or some shit.”

 

“Who knew such a simple disease would defeat the great Shizuo Heiwajima,” Tom chuckled, taking a cigarette out of his top pocket.

 

“Shut it,” he growled in response, downing the rest of his drink.

 

Tom sighed loudly. At first the blonde thought the other man was annoyed with him, but when he glanced over at him, he could see that his gaze was fixed on something outside. He turned his head in that direction and instantly felt his blood run cold. Izaya was stood on the opposite side of the street, face covered in shadows caused by the illumination from the streetlight above. He was looking directly at the bar, eyes shining brightly, even in the dim of the night. Shizuo could see something glowing in his hand and almost instantly, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Anger prickled inside him as he flipped open his cell.

 

_‘Come outside. We wouldn’t want to wreck this bar a second time, would we?’_

 

Shizuo growled under his breath and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He stood and removed his glasses, tucking them into his shirt.

 

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid, Shizuo,” Tom warned, turning to look at the blonde as he moved to the exit. “Send me a message when you’re home safe, ‘kay?”

 

“Sure,” he replied, gruffly. “See you tomorrow, Tom.”

 

The other man raised his glass as Shizuo headed out of the bar and into the cool air of the night. Izaya was still stood beneath the streetlight, leaning casually against the wall behind him with his hands deep in his pockets. Shizuo knew that he would have his fingers wrapped around a flick-knife but approached him with little caution. He wasn’t afraid of the pathetic flea, even if he was no longer injured.

 

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya greeted, warmly. He pushed himself away from the wall and raised a hand. “I would say it’s good to see you but that would be a lie.”

 

“Pfft, as if you’ve ever told the truth,” the blonde scoffed, placing a cigarette into his mouth. He felt a vein throbbing in his forehead and took a deep drag of smoke to try and control his rapidly rising anger. “What do you want, flea? I was enjoyin’ the peace without you around and was hoping you had died.”

 

“Nope, I’m alive and better than ever!” the informant laughed. “I was just in town on business and thought I would come see my favourite barten-”

 

“Cut the shit, scum,” he snapped, cigarette snapping in half beneath his shaking fingers. “I’ll ask once more and if I don’t get a straight answer I’ll kick your ass outta the city. What do you want?”

 

“Hmm, always so brash,” Izaya hummed, eyes moving up and down the other man’s body. Shizuo shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under his scrutinising gaze. There was silence for a moment as Izaya tried to decide his next move. The informant took a step forward and removed a flick-knife from his pocket, raising it so that it was level with Shizuo’s eyes. “In truth, I’ve come to slit your throat.”

 

With that, the man lunged forward and slashed down with the blade, shredding the front of Shizuo’s shirt. Even though the cuts were not deep, blood started blossoming beneath the material and the blonde grunted in pain. Rage swelled inside of him and he reached for the closest thing he could find - the lamp-post. He wrenched the metal from the ground, causing the light to flicker out and held it at his side, head swinging around to try and find the other man. Somewhere to his left, down a darkened alleyway, he heard Izaya laughing softly. With a loud roar, the beast sprinted in the direction of the noise, dragging the lamp post behind him. Half-way down the alley, he felt something land on his shoulders and glanced up to see Izaya’s arms wrapped around his neck. The informant was clinging to him from behind like a limpet, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The beast snarled and made move to grab him, but felt the cold metal blade of the flick-knife against his jugular. Izaya chuckled and leaned down, pressing his lips against the blonde’s ear. Shizuo shuddered at the sensation and pushed unwanted images from his head.

 

“Nighty night, monster,” he cooed.

 

“Not today,” Shizuo spat, dropping the lamp-post. He reached behind his head and grabbed ahold of the hood of Izaya’s jacket. With little effort, he pulled the smaller man over his shoulder and sent him crashing face-first to the floor. The informant wheezed as the air was knocked out of his lungs but he quickly flipped onto his back so that he wouldn’t lose sight of the beast. Attacking the blonde from such a close range had been a mistake, Izaya scolded himself, but he had seemed hesitant to begin the chase at first and needed provoking. Shizuo grabbed the man’s collar and hoisted him up off the floor, leaving his legs dangling freely in the air.

 

“Stupid fucking flea,” Shizuo snarled, glowering at the grinning idiot he held in his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

 

“Oh, at least once more, Shizu-chan,” he snickered. He felt in his pocket for his knife but noted that he must have dropped it when the monster threw him to the ground. How irritating. The blonde shook him hard enough that his brain felt rattled.

 

“You’ve only just healed up, are you really lookin’ to get beaten to a pulp?” Shizuo said, scowling darkly. He drew Izaya closer to his face and shook him again, rougher this time. The informant laughed, despite this treatment, and Shizuo did his best not to be distracted by the way a stream of blood trickled from between his full lips and ran down his chin.

 

“Well, maybe I wanted you to _look after_ me again,” he replied, placing his hands over Shizuo’s. The blonde stiffened at his comment, much to Izaya’s amusement. “Since you were so _good_ at it last time.”

 

Shizuo growled angrily and shoved the smaller man back into the wall. His pressed his free hand beside his head and pinned him against the concrete with the length of his body, one of his thighs resting between the other man’s legs. Izaya smirked at his reaction and bucked his hips up against the blonde’s thigh. He let out an intentionally filthy groan, which Shizuo balked at.

 

“You’re fucking disgusting,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. The feeling of Izaya writhing against him sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, much to his annoyance. He should let him go, he thought, just let him drop to the ground and get away from him. That would be the sensible thing to do, but part of him desperately wanted to feel the informant squirm harder against him.

 

“Then why did you moan my name when you came inside me?” Izaya asked, raising a brow. Shizuo bared his teeth in anger, but he just laughed. He spoke, half giggling, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You know I was a little peeved when you didn't call, Shizu-chan. I felt so used!”

 

“Stop fucking talking,” Shizuo demanded, fist clenching his shirt tighter. Why was Izaya bringing it up, he thought, what happened to going back to normal? He couldn't ignore it or erase it completely if the other man kept bringing that tantalising, delicious excess of images back into his mind.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it didn't fucking happen.”

 

“Well, we both know that's not true.”

 

Shizuo was seething and leaned in so close that Izaya could feel spit splattering against his face as he raged. “Shut up! How are we supposed to go back to normal if you keep goin’ on?”

 

Izaya tilted his head slightly to one side, looking amused. “Why are you so desperate to get back to ‘normal’? We fucked, doesn't mean we can't try and kill one another.”

 

“We did not-.”

 

Now it was the informant’s turn to scowl. “Seriously? If you're going to deny that it even happened you're a bigger idiot than I imagined.”

 

Shizuo leaned back and sighed softly. “I know what happened, I just wish it hadn’t. I dunno how you can find this all so easy.”

 

“I don't, you pathetic monster,” Izaya hissed. Shizuo noticed that his eye twitch slightly and found himself wanting to bite the pulsing muscle beneath the skin of his cheek. “You think it doesn’t drive me mad? I hate you and yet-”

 

“And yet?” the blonde asked, feeling his mouth dry up.

 

“And yet I find myself unable to stop thinking about what happened,” Izaya snapped, angrily. He seemed to be more annoyed with himself than the other man and he turned his glare down to the floor. “And I want to do it again.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. To dust you will return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of a time shift. Finally getting the story moved along! The next part of the story will be post showdown, another six months in the future. 
> 
> You can all find me at http://markovgirlfanfic.tumblr.com/ by the way! Come say hello, request drabbles and whatnot.

 

Shizuo stared at him blankly for a moment, then tossed him carelessly against the wall on the opposite side of the alleyway. He didn’t want to have to deal with this, he wanted to pretend it never happened - why didn’t the flea understand that? He would have thought that the other man would be as eager to forget as he was and he was furious that he wasn’t playing along. Shizuo was not ashamed of what happened between them, he was aggravated that he gave in to his own desires and that he was tempted in the first place. He clung to the fact that Izaya was the one who kissed him, not the other way around. It was Izaya’s fault that he kissed him back, that his heart fluttered strangely when he smiled so softly, it was always his fault that he lost control. As much as Izaya might call him a beast, the reality was quite the opposite. His emotions were delicate, always easily tipped into anger if disturbed too much, hence why he kept himself so far removed from relations that lasted more than one night. And despite the small voice in the back of his head urging him to smother Izaya’s lips with his own, Shizuo knew that he could not. He could not for fear that the informant smiled like _that_ again and he stopped hating him. That constant could not change, he could never stop hating Izaya or forget all the transgressions the man had caused him. He would rather be alone for the rest of his life than forgive the informant’s crimes. Forgiveness, even the thought brought a bitter taste into his mouth.

 

Izaya grunted as he slid down the concrete until his backside hit the filthy ground below. When he peered back up, the monster was glaring at him intensely. There was a surprising emptiness behind the anger in his eyes where he expected to see the raw emotion Shizuo was so inclined to show. He wanted to pull them out.

 

“You think I’m gonna buy that shit, ‘zaya?” he drawled, shaking his head. “What, you fucked me and now you like me or somethin’?”

 

“Not exactly,” Izaya replied, frowning. “I just think it would be idiotic to pretend tha-”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Shizuo snarled. Izaya almost flinched at the tone and the way the monster took a step forward. The larger man crouched in front of him and it was only then that he noticed his flick knife was in his hand. “I don’t give a shit how you feel, flea. Fucking you once is not going to stop me wanting to beat you to a pulp, not after all the years of crap I’ve had to put up with.”

 

The smaller man smirked and inclined his head. “You fucked me twice.”

 

Shizuo’s hand darted forward and Izaya swiftly dodged the attack by laying flat on the floor. When he looked up he saw that the blonde had lunged at him with the flick knife, which was now crumpled due to the impact on the wall. Izaya laughed lightly and slid underneath the other man’s arm, narrowly avoiding a punch to the face. He sprang to his feet but was quickly pulled back onto the ground by the back of his hair and Shizuo was straddling his hips in a second. Panicking slightly, he pushed his hands against the immoveable chest above him and yelped when they were pushed roughly to the ground beside his head.

 

“Nothing has changed,” the blonde growled, grip tightening enough to make Izaya twitch. There was no trace of the fleeting, open smile anywhere on the informant’s face, it was the same arrogant expression, the same self-righteous smirk as it had always been.

 

“You're an idiot, Shizu-chan,” he panted, brows furrowing despite the grin on his face. “Come on, you know things have changed.”

 

“Nothi-”

 

Izaya laughed in his face, interrupting him. His eyes widened in excitement, making him look almost maniacal. “It's funny, really. I want to screw you more than I want to kill you - it's so bizarre! I suppose, the former is more fun. After all-”

 

He leaned up and sunk his teeth into Shizuo’s throat, hard enough to break the skin. The blonde hissed loudly, but it broke into a wanton groan and released one of Izaya’s hands so that he could force him back to the ground by shoving his chest. Blood stained the sides of his grin and he bore his teeth like some wild predator.

 

“I can keep coming back for more. Killing you would be too boring now.”

 

“Then why did you try and slit my throat?” Shizuo asked, fury seeping out of every word.

 

Izaya’s eyes sparkled with happiness, a sick happiness. “I needed to see what I desired more right there in the moment. I was just as surprised as you to find that there was no real murderous intent behind my actions.”

 

“You're insane,” he scoffed, shaking his head. Without warning, one of the informant’s legs slid up and his knee intentionally grazed Shizuo’s crotch. The beast grunted and gripped the wrist he still held tighter and he was unsure if this was in warning or urging. “Flea-”

 

“You need to learn to listen, beast,” Izaya chided, rolling his eyes. That familiar, filthy smirk spread across his lips and it sent a shiver down the blonde’s spine. “Things have changed, despite how much we would both like to deny that. I know what I want now!”

 

“What are you fucking talking about?” Shizuo asked, his voice cracking as the informant ground his knee harder into him. Izaya raised his free hand and trailed his finger over the other man’s bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of the dry cracks beneath his skin.

 

“You know I always watch everyone else’s reactions but never my own, so I told myself to go with my gut for once,” Izaya continued, almost to himself. He tapped his finger lightly on Shizuo’s lips. “And strangely enough my gut is telling me that _I want you._ ”

 

Shizuo let out a shaky breath and grabbed ahold of Izaya’s hand, tugging on it so that he could press it back into the ground. His body was aching, god how he wanted to touch him, to be touched - instead of continuing he raised his head then smashed it hard against Izaya’s forehead. The smaller man gasped and his eyes fluttered, stars bursting before his vision. Before he regained his senses, a heavy kick landed on his ribs, forcing him to roll onto his opposite side. He let out a wheeze and then another cry when he was hoisted off the floor and thrown against a dumpster. The informant slowly pushed onto his knees, trying to ignore the stabbing pain coming from his torso. He spat a mouthful of blood to the floor and gave Shizuo a toothy grin.

 

“So, I take that y-”

 

He was cut off when Shizuo raised his knee and slammed his foot against his head, pushing it roughly back against the dumpster. He let out a groan, blood gurgling in his throat, and when the blonde removed his foot, he flopped onto his front and his face grazed the floor. A foul metallic tang rolled over his tongue. The monster was not reacting in the way he predicted and it angered him. He thought the monster would be unable to resist as he did when they were holed up in his apartment. But no, he thought, trying to ignore the way his stomach twisted uncomfortably. No, Shizuo wanted nothing but mindless violence, he didn’t want change, he didn’t want Izaya. Rejection was bitter and it seared. Perhaps he never should have been honest with himself, he mused unhappily, maybe it would have been sweeter to act like Shizuo, to pretend nothing ever happened.

 

“Stay away from Ikebukuro,” Shizuo stated, bluntly. He turned away from the beaten man and headed back toward the bar, needing a drink to calm his nerves. Izaya deserved it, he told himself, he definitely deserved it. “Or I’ll kill you.”

 

Izaya smiled gently, his lips scraping against the rough ground. He had failed to capture Shizuo, even the beast wouldn’t have him. Shinra was right, he thought, his own heart was so very brittle, as was his ego. A laugh left his lips and bloody saliva drooled out of his mouth onto his chin. The decision was forced, he would have to kill him. Izaya allowed the hollow area inside of him to be filled with savage anger caused by rejection. Hatred burned so intensely through his veins at that moment that it eclipsed his shameful loneliness. A plan started to form in his mind, a way to rid himself of the beast forever. He wanted the Shizuo to burn for what he did, he wanted the fire in his veins to come to life and rip the worthless flesh from his bones.

  
  


-0-

  


_“Goodbye.”_

 

It took him a long time to see his ideas come to fruition. Killing a monster was a hard task, one that required months of set up, expenses and planning. He had many other strings to pull around the one attached to Shizuo, so many ends to tie and others to sever. Namie helped speed up the process, after she’d delivered a bruising punch to his face for assaulting her. Never mind, a pair of black eyes were worth it to have her assistance - she really was a marvellous secretary. Removing the oxygen from the room was her idea and what a stroke of sick genius it was! Not only would it weaken the beast’s immense strength, but it would also literally ‘take his breath away’ and Izaya appreciated the humour. The use of gas would also lend to the more explosive element in his plan.

 

Izaya never let the hatred he felt fizzle out. Even when he turned on the gas. Even when he saw the monster below him, gasping wildly as the poisoned air filled his lungs. The blonde pushed against the ground and he could see his shoulders straining through his thin white shirt. For a moment he thought Shizuo would stand, as he always did, but he didn’t. He fell back to the ground with a wheeze and began to crawl toward the exhausts. Izaya flicked open his lighter and let it fall without care. When the flames sprang up in front of him, he found that his rage had quietened. The fire danced beautifully, what a fine end for his most hated enemy.

 

“This was your choice, Shizu-chan,” he murmured, placing his hands in his pockets. He smiled coldly as he turned away from the fire. Ah - there it was, he thought, placing a hand over his chest. That familiar melancholy, there it was, swelling deep in his stomach. It worth it to get rid of the beast. He forced a smirk onto his face, thinking it would make him feel better. It wouldn’t do to remain still, he had to find new distractions, new games to fill the vast emptiness ahead. “Goodbye.”

 

_Stop._

 

The building beneath his feet shook and the sky above him darkened to a thick, impenetrable black. His eye twitched - Celty? A loud crash drew his attention and he span around to look back at the pit of flames. There was nothing. No burning embers, not even a trace of ash. No Shizuo, just a large crumbling hole in the floor. The building shook violently again and over the din of crashing brick and crunching metal, he heard a familiar roar. Vibrations rattled up the steel beam he was stood upon and it jerked roughly, causing the man to lose his balance. His feet found no further surface, he was falling. Chaos thundered around him and as he tossed and turned through the debris-filled air, he caught glimpse of his monster below. The beast was panting in exertion, but he was alive, so bright and brilliant and _monstrous._ A large steel girder was clenched in his hands, the metal folding beneath his fingers like paper. Izaya smiled and closed his eyes. He had underestimated Shizuo Heiwajima for the final time. He was going to die.

 

_He was going to die. No, no, no! This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!_

 

The informant saw the beam swing toward him and only just managed to turn in the air to kick his feet against the approaching metal. The force of impact sent him sailing across the street and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. It must have only taken a few seconds for him to crash through the thin wall of the office building but he felt each of those seconds pass more prominently than any other in his life. Pain exploded throughout his entire body so viciously that he couldn’t even find the strength to scream. His already weakened ribs crunched under the force and he felt one of his shoulders pop out of its socket. When he hit the floor, his arm swung limply in front of him, a useless sack of bones. His breath whistled as it left his mouth and he felt his stomach turn. He tried to push himself to his knees but the action sent such violent agony shooting up his crushed spine that he retched and he threw up a stream of thick, foul blood.

 

Izaya heaved. The pain was nearly blinding and it was only hearing the thundering roar of the monster outside that gave him enough adrenaline to get up and keep moving. His spine scraped against his pelvis with each step, it felt like he was running through syrup and his ears were ringing from the obvious concussion. The man didn’t know where he was running, he just wanted to get away. This was too much, he’d pushed the monster too far, he was going to die. He didn’t stop running when he felt another surge of blood-stained vomit force its way up his throat, he just opened his mouth and spat it out on the ground. Get to somewhere busy, he urged himself, find your humans. Eventually, he made it to a crowded space and, with a pounding, frantic heart, faced the approaching beast.

 

Shizuo looked so calm, even dragging the vending machine behind him, even with burn marks on his shirt and ash in his hair. No, Izaya thought, raising his knife. It wasn’t calm, it was determination. The beast wasn’t playing a game on his level anymore, there was nothing but murder in his eyes. The informant noticed how the hand that held the knife was trembling and he almost laughed. He was scared, he was so scared and there was nothing he could do. Shizuo was magnificent, he was nothing and he was going to die. Perhaps it was always going to be this way. Izaya smiled and lunged forward, stabbing the knife toward the blonde, who swiftly caught the blade and threw it away. Compared to the informant, he moved so easily, it was like he was discarding a toy from a naughty child.

 

Shizuo attacked then, lurching forward with one devastating fist outstretched and the smaller man is too exhausted to avoid it. He raised his arms to stop the hit from colliding with his face and let out a high-pitched shriek when both his arms crunch loudly. The pain was white hot and Izaya carried on screaming when he found that he couldn’t move his arms at all, they simply hung limp and lifeless at his sides.

 

“Shut up,” Shizuo snarled, his eyes widening. Izaya noticed that the beast’s eyes were wilder than he had ever seen them, his teeth were bared like the animal he was. He had finally managed to tear off the last mask of humanity Shizuo wore - here he was, his monster, for all to see. The man smiled to himself. He really didn’t want to die, but at least he would have one final victory and that was enough. Another violent retch rocked his insides and he coughed, spraying blood across the pavement.

 

“Do it,” he panted, turning his head slightly so that he could look his enemy in the eye. “Monster.”

 

Shizuo moved but it wasn’t him who shoved the knife in his side. Izaya dropped to one knee and looked up to see the Russian assassin staring blankly at him. He smiled at her and felt tears form in the corner of his eyes. No, he thought, it has to be Shizuo. From the way Shizuo was looking at him, eyes so wide and suddenly full of emotion, as if watching Vorona stab him brought him back to reality, he felt the same. The blonde stepped forward, his fist relaxing into an outstretched hand.

 

“Wait,” he called.

 

Izaya wasn’t sure if he was speaking to him or Vorona, but his gaze was fixed on him. He smiled warmly and fell back as a sudden burst of smoke clouded his vision. Something was happening, there was pandemonium in the air and the crack of a gun-shot somewhere in the distance, someone had hold of him and the floor fell away. Something cold settled over the stab wound, halting anymore warmth from leaving his body. Izaya didn’t care to look, nor listen, he just prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that he would never lay eyes on the monster again.

  
  



	11. Miserable angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a sad, slow chapter this. A lot more development in the next one but gotta set the scene first! There are some mild deviations from canon but I tried to keep most of the basic outline the same. Hope you guys like it! Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews/kudos, by the way, they really make my day and encourage me to keep churning out the chapters!

Izaya Orihara was dreaming. Through the fog, there was a headless woman on a black horse, the endless _pinging_ of a chat message, a puddle of crimson pooling around his feet. There was a monster prowling around the edges of the dream, its teeth bared, mouth open and dripping. There was pain, sharp and real, searing across his body and under his skin. His heart pumped ice through his veins, an intense pain he would have killed to extinguish. The feeling immobilized him and grew until he prayed to God that he would die. But he lingered there, on the brink of death, the taste of metal on his lips, until his heart jerked once - twice -

 

Three times. Then again. And it did not stop. The taste of the blood in his mouth began to fade.

 

He felt cool feminine hands touch his face, then his neck, warming his skin. The buzzing of the chat messages faded to a dull, steady beeping. Fingertips caressed the puncture wound in his side, alleviating his pain. Warmth spread over his body slowly and he began to feel something else - the weight of his body, the soft surface beneath his back, the slight breeze from the open window. Izaya Orihara began to feel alive. He longed to see who was touching him, but found himself still unable to open his eyes. Instead, there was a soft, dark voice at his ear and the gentle brush of feather-light hair against his cheek.

 

_"You’re lucky to be alive, scumbag."_

 

He never thought he would be happy to hear the grating, arrogant tone of Namie Yagiri but in that moment, she was a deafening, beautiful angel. The soft hands pressed roughly into him and a sudden stab of pain in the centre of his chest shocked him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, cold and stark. The small man let out a harsh screech and his eyes flew open. Cool evening air filled his lungs and caused goosebumps to erupt across his skin. His eyes darted from side to side as he panicked, his body still too exhausted and pained to move. The shock forced him into unconsciousness and his eyes fluttered shut again. But his chest started to rise and fall and his parted lips grew rosy as blood began to pump through his veins. The heart began to pound faster, unyielding, alive.

 

-0-

 

After that day, all the conflicts seemed to end. The few members of the Dollars that he recognised, Mikado, Masaomi, that girl with the glasses whose name he could never remember, they all dropped out of his life after they parted ways on that fateful day. Kasuka had gone abroad and his phone always rolled over into voicemail. Tom told him to take a couple weeks holiday, Vorona would cover him until then. Even Shinra and Celty stayed away from the city. He knew the citizens of Ikebukuro had their own mourning to do, grievances that they all had to account for, but he hadn't expected to be abandoned by the only people he would consider talking to, by his friends. He needed someone to talk to, he couldn’t stop thinking about - about everything. During the nights when the nightmares became too terrifying to handle, he ached to pick up the phone and call one of his friends, but always paused before his fingers wrapped around the receiver, vividly recalling his previous attempts to speak to them.

 

_Shizuo, it's two in the morning and Celty needs to sleep. I'm sorry, we'll speak another time._

 

_It's late, or early, it's just - I was sleeping. I have filming in the morning. Night._

Since then, he had been almost afraid to pick up the phone. They had families, partners, people more important than a man who once accompanied them through a time they'd rather forget. Shizuo's life was near silent these days. But this could hardly be the fault of his friends. No, it was his fault that he couldn't move on, that the nightmares still tainted his sleep and left his days crippled with exhaustion, left his face marred by dark circles and worry lines. He still lived alone, in the same old apartment. Sometimes he looked over at the sofa through bleary, drunken eyes and swore he could see the flea laying there. Sometimes he heard his smug laugh on the wind. The excruciating guilt faded to a dull pain in his chest after a while, though dreams of the man’s smiling face still taunted him every night.

 

With every day that passed, each missing letter, each sleepless night, Shizuo found his enthusiasm for life slip further and further away. He didn’t go outside much, only to stock up on food and drink. The beast of Ikebukuro was sinking into the Doldrums and it was growing harder and harder to pull himself out. Grief and loneliness snuffed out the passion he had once felt. Instead, the world saw a quiet, blonde-haired man with gaunt cheeks and a strange, haunted emptiness in his eyes. Someone who looked a little like the man with the incredible strength, but, _no, it couldn't be._

 

Despite being aware of how depression was affecting him, he never attempted to confront the problem, he never asked for help. No, revealing the crippling mind-set would only make people think he was weak. And far be it from Shizuo to make himself a burden, surely he could get over the past by himself. Part of him felt he deserved to be unhappy after everything that had happened. Now, more than ever, he was certain of his own monstrosity. Better to keep it shut away. Solitary life was not so unpleasant; he tended to glide through each day, barely speaking, head stuck in a book. His life wasn't really anything, it was empty.

 

-0-

 

Namie Yagiri really was a very good secretary. She stayed with him after the fight, after shoving the shot of adrenaline through his breastbone into his heart. The heartless woman sat there at his side, flicking carelessly through a new magazine until the day his eyes beseeched her to speak. He could still barely move at that stage, much less talk.

 

“What?” she asked, inclining her head. She smirked and laid the magazine down on her lap. “Oh, I see. Look, l’m not here because I give a shit. I just need you to stay alive to validate my pay checks.”

 

Izaya glanced at her tiredly, then back at the casts which tightly bound his arms. Namie was a bitch, but at least she was here. His back was aching terribly due to the tight brace that was keeping it in place.

 

“You just refuse to die, don't you?” she sighed, picking the magazine back up.

 

The man grunted and drew her attention back. He moved his eyes back and forth horizontally as if to ask ‘where are we’.

 

“We’re in a private hospital in Kanto. Shiki recommended we bring you here and I got burdened with looking after you because I’m a doctor,” Namie replied, her brows furrowing slightly. “So annoying. You kept muttering that you wanted to be away from Ikebukuro.”

 

The informant nodded as best he could. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that city, near that beast. His heart thudded roughly as panic spiked through him. Namie frowned and cautiously reached out to place a hand over his wrist, fingers curling so that she could check his pulse. His eyes widened and his breathing started to shake.

 

“N-n-n-” he stammered. He wanted to scream ‘no’ but it hurt so much to breath, let alone to speak.

 

“Calm down,” she said, more gently than he had ever heard her speak. “You’re safe.”

 

Safe, yes, that was right. He was safe.  

 

Time passed and the man’s body began to heal. Namie stayed at his side for the majority of the time and after a while he began to appreciate her presence. She was still harsh, still unfriendly and cold, but at least she was there. He wasn’t alone. Namie didn’t seem to mind sitting with him either, she often bought him treats from outside his room - fatty tuna, audiobooks, games. A couple of times she played chess with him, moving the pieces where he directed her to. When he arms were still tightly bound in plaster she fed him. A few times, on the nights when his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he retched from a combination of panic and pain, she would stay with him until his stress eased and he fell asleep. Often she fell asleep too, in her chair, head and arms resting on the edge of his bed. Neither would have called the other a friend, but they were comfortable. Both accepted, albeit with irritation, that this was probably the closest they would get to a normal human relationship.

 

Despite his injuries, Izaya was happy to still be alive after the confrontation with Shizuo. He remained in a dream-like state most of the time, his thoughts unusually sluggish and hazy, perhaps due to the heavy painkillers being fed into his veins. This feeling was shattered one rainy morning in September.

 

“N-Namie, could you get m-me a coffee?” he asked, reaching to the bedside table to get his laptop. He stammered a lot of the time, a symptom Namie was convinced was caused by emotional trauma rather than due to his physical injuries. His arms had healed enough to allow limited movement, only his forearms remained in light casts and he was able to freely move his fingers again. He couldn’t reach the machine and struggled to move his hips across the bed to close to distance due to the brace on his back. “W-when will I be able to get out of this darn bed? I’m bor-bored of sitting down all the t-time.“

 

“Huh?” Namie replied, placing a freshly brewed filter coffee on the table on the other side of him. Her expression turned blank and she glanced at his legs. “I thought the other doctors told you.”

 

“Told m-me what?” he questioned, giving up on trying to get the laptop. He turned back to look at the woman, who was looking a little uncomfortable. “Told m-me what, N-Nam-Namie?”

 

“Not for a while.”

 

Sound seemed to fade to a high-pitched noise as she started to tell him that his spinal cord was injured when he was thrown through the building, that his legs were damaged and it would take time and work to regain mobility.

 

“Why did you think you were wearing a brace? I guess you were still out cold when we performed surgery.”

 

His heart was pumping so fast that he thought it might burst through his chest. His head started to ache as blood beat angrily against his temples. He gripped the bedsheets tightly in his hands. This wasn’t real, in a second he would wake up and he’d be back in his apartment in Shinjuku and nothing would broken and everything would be normal.

 

“Am I p-paralysed?” he managed to croak.

 

Namie scowled. “Are you not listening to me, idiot? You can feel your legs can’t you?”

 

She viciously prodded a finger into the side of his thigh and he winced. “Yes, I can.”

 

“Exactly,” she commented, waving a hand casually. “You’re going to be weaker than usual and you will need to use a wheelchair for a while but you’ll be able to walk again if you work at it. We need to start physical therapy as soon as possible for the best results.”

 

Izaya noted with displeasure her comment- w _eaker than usual_. He felt any previous warmth seep from his body and he spoke quietly. “I’m n-not weak.”

 

Namie stared at him silently for a moment, her eyes raking up and down his torso. Her gaze settled on his face and she was surprised to see the man looking so utterly miserable. For once, she decided to cut him some slack. “Obviously not. There are few people who could face that overpowered asshole and live to tell the tale.”

 

The informant gave her a weary smile and looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers and turned them over to look at his palms. “I was foo-foolish to th-think-”

 

He trailed off, face twisting in upset. Namie wasn’t certain of how his sentence was going to end. To think he could kill Heiwajima. To think that he would have offered anything aside from rejection and violence. To think that he was indestructible. She mused over these ideas and folded her arms across her chest - she was a clever woman, one who stood toe to toe with Izaya in terms of cold, hard intellect and as such, she had an inkling of the truth. When her employer had been planning the demise of his foe, he was acting with a fervour she had never seen before, not from him at least. There was a craze in his eyes and the desire for revenge in his smile. That was what she found strange, why would he want vengeance against the blonde? For all she knew he had never actively done anything to Izaya. He was the one who always provoked their fights and set up schemes to ruin Shizuo’s life. It didn’t make sense. Unless something had happened that she wasn’t aware of. Namie had pondered the idea for a long time until one day she recognised the look on his face. It was the same as the one that had been plastered on her own whenever she saw that bitch Mika. It was _scorn._ It was _rejection._ For some reason that she couldn’t quite fathom, she let the issue go unspoken.

 

Izaya’s face screwed up tightly and his cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. Namie tilted her head as she watched him - he looked ugly when he cried and she told him so.

 

“You look ugly when you cry.”

 

The informant opened his eyes and let out a half-cry, half-laugh. Tears poured freely down his face and his torso convulsed painfully as he began to sob. “I s-s-suppose I deserve this.”

 

She sighed and sat down in the chair beside his bed. The woman was cold, but she didn’t like watching him cry. It was so abnormal, so disgusting, she wanted it to stop. Slowly, she raised her hand and laid it over his shaking fingers. Part of her wanted to tell him no, he didn’t deserve this, no-one deserved it - but she didn’t want to lie to him. He had led an unsavoury life, committed so many atrocities in his short time on Earth. Perhaps this was his recompense. Surprisingly, Izaya gripped her hand tightly as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She grimaced but let it go and turned her head away as the man wept unhappily. Let him cry in peace, she thought to herself. He didn't deserve the dignity but who was she to deny him such a small mercy.

  
  


-0-

 

_One year passed._

 

Shizuo Heiwajima stood alone under a street-light. Smoke curled gently around his face and his eyes were covered by glasses, as if he didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be seen. If it were not for his great size, a passer-by might not have recognised him, for he no longer wore his old bartender uniform and his hair was now a light shade of auburn. His glasses were prescription, rather than sunglasses, for his eyesight had worsened over the last year. On most days he wore contact lenses, but today he was tired and his eyes were dry. He raised the cigarette back to his lips and took in a short, sharp drag.

 

The familiar roar of the black bike approached and the man turned to face the rider as when she stopped in front of him. He gave the headless biker a wave and smiled. Around six months ago things had started changing. People called, texted, they wanted to see him again. He went back to work. Kasuka came home and they spent some much needed time together. Things were getting brighter, better. Though the darkness lingered at the back of his mind, he didn’t think about his fallen enemy that much any more.

 

“Celty,” he greeted, removing the cigarette from his mouth. The rider stepped off her bike and started to type on her trusty PDA.

 

_Hi! How are you?_

 

“I’m-” he paused, then forced a smile on his face. He stopped himself before he said ‘good’. He hadn’t been ‘good’ in a while. “Alright. You?”

 

 _Fine thanks._ Celty tipped her head to one side. _What do you want to do tonight?_

 

The blonde shrugged and raised the cigarette back to his lips. “Don’t mind. I’d kinda like to walk around outside for a bit.”

 

 _Sure._ Celty parked her bike in a nearby secluded alley and moved to the man’s side. _So how is everything going?_

 

“Fine, I guess,” he answered, gruffly. The pair started to wander the relatively empty streets aimlessly. “Tom’s still been giving me a lot more work in the office. Paperwork and shit. I think he’s still cautious about letting me back on the street.”

 

_He’s just trying to look out for you._

 

“I know, I know,” the man sighed, flicking his cigarette butt to the floor. “I’m just restless. Being cramped up indoors makes me want to fight all the more.”

 

 _You shouldn’t fight, Shizuo._ Celty typed, swiftly. _Not for the sake of it, at least._

 

Shizuo nodded. “It’s not that I want to, trust me. I hate violence, you know that.”

 

_I know._

 

They walked in silence for a little while until Shizuo stopped and stared at the intersection they had arrived at. He felt his mouth run dry and his stomach turned nervously. This is where he had last seen him. The memory of bone crunching beneath his hands was still so vibrant and it made him feel sick.

 

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, his tone flat. “‘Bout-”

 

Celty held up her PDA before he could finish. _No._

 

Shizuo swallowed thickly and nodded. “He’s never stayed away for this long, even after he’s been injured.”

 

Celty turned her head to look at him and raised a hand to place on his shoulder. He looked tense, his hands were clenched at his sides, but he seemed more pained than angry.

 

_He’ll be back._

 

“I think he’s dead. I think I killed him,” Shizuo murmured. His eyes scanned the ground. There were no longer any stains but he remembered the blood vividly. The way it drooled out of lips he had once heatedly kissed. “He’s not coming back.”

 

_I’m sure he’s not dead. It would take more than a couple of punches to kill Izaya Orihara. :)_

 

Shizuo gave a half-hearted laugh and took a cigarette from his top pocket. He lit it and took a slow drag, eyes fixed on the intersection. “Do you think he would forgive me? He spent so many years antagonising me, what did he expect was gonna happen? I-I, fucking hell, what did he want me to do?”

 

Celty squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. _I don’t think any of us will ever be 100% clear on his motives. He’s a complicated, fucked up individual._

 

“You’re right on that,” he sighed, looking back into the empty helmet.

 

 _I don’t mean to sound callous._ Celty typed. She paused, seemingly unsure of her next words, but eventually flipped the screen around to show him. _But I don’t think anyone will miss him if he never comes back. We have to move on with our lives because he’s probably out there doing the same thing._

 

The man nodded and let out a puff of smoke. “Thanks Celty. I think I’m going t’head home for the evening. You be okay getting back?”

 

The headless rider nodded and wrapped her arms around her friend’s waist in a hug. Shizuo remained still for a moment, surprised by the sudden show of affection but eventually lowered his arms to embrace the woman.

 

“Thank you,” he said, again, squeezing her tightly. Celty waved her arms, indicating he was hugging her a little too tightly and he released her with a chuckle. He patted her shoulder a final time before giving her a wave and heading toward his apartment.

 

Celty watched his retreating back until he disappeared into the crowd, then looked back at the intersection. She remembered that awful day. During that final fight she found herself shocked - Shizuo was in such a rage, she was almost frightened by him and even though she didn’t like him, she pitied the beaten-up Orihara. His agonised screams and the way his arms crunched unpleasantly were sounds she would never forget. Despite her feelings, she couldn’t let him die like that and she couldn’t let Shizuo become a murderer. That’s why she sealed the stab wound with shadow and helped those people take Izaya away. Of all the people she had to save, she never wanted it to be him.

 

The rider shook her head and called her bike to her. She had never expected Izaya to fear death, he didn’t seem like the type but clearly he valued his life or he wouldn’t have been so grateful. It had been a surprise when a large bunch of Irish wildflowers were delivered to her and Shinra’s apartment, accompanied by a small note, written in wobbly, uneven handwriting.

 

 _‘Thank you, Courier. I am forever in your debt._  

 

_Yours, I._

 P.S.  _I would appreciate it if you kept my living to yourself for the moment. I need some time._

 

It had been a relief to find out that Izaya was still alive but she could understand why he wished to keep it under wraps. People might take advantage of his weakened state and try and have him finished off. She wondered if he was afraid that Shizuo would come looking for him. She wondered if her friend would. It was hard to lie to him and pretend she too was unaware of Izaya’s fate but it was necessary for now. It was up to the informant what the future would bring.  

  
  



	12. Tough guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely reviews, etc. Please note, I've written Izaya's injuries a little differently in that they are not fully paralyzing. He's not going to be running around any time soon, but he's going to be able to walk assisted with a cane for short distances and use a wheelchair for the rest. Emotional state and how he and Namie get back to 'Bukuro will be covered in the next chapter.

“I swear to Christ-”

 

“You don't believe in God.”

 

“- I am going to kill you, dick.” 

 

Izaya sighed and leaned back in his chair, hands draping over the top of the wheels. Namie was kneeling in front of him, one hand under the arch of his foot and the other under his knee. She was pushing against the limb to exercise the muscle and, as predicted, he was being as annoying as possible by doing absolutely nothing. 

 

“You have to push back against me or there’s no point in doing this,” she snapped, digging her nails into his foot. 

 

Izaya winced slightly at the feeling, but didn't move. “There's n-no point anyway.”

 

“Fine,” she answered, dropping his leg so that she could stand upright. She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him. “Why are you being so difficult? Don't you want to walk again?”

 

“We’ve been eh-exercising all day,” he complained, pouting. His stammer had been improving but it was more prominent when he was stressed out, bothered, worried. He hated how obvious it made him. She relished it. “And I was doing this at the clinic this m-morning.”

 

Namie ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “Because that’s what it takes. I'm not doing this for fun. You’re like a child sometimes!”

 

“I'm tired,” Izaya replied, placing his foot back on the footrest of the chair. “I need to r-rest.”

 

“No, you're not,” the woman countered, tapping her fingers against the curve of her elbow. “You're giving up because for some idiotic reason you seem to think that you need to accept this as, what, a badge of defeat? You're so fucking self-involved, Izaya. You make me sick.”  

 

“Then why don't you leave m-me alo-lone?” he stuttered, a little more viciously than intended. The two of them fought often, they bickered like an old married couple. 

 

“Because it's annoying to see you so pathetic and sorry for yourself. If I left you alone to wallow any further in your own self-pity you would be absolutely unbearable.”

 

“You're so mean.”

 

“And you,” she began, kneeling back down so she could take hold of his foot again. “Are going to listen to me.”

 

He smirked down at her, amused. Namie would never tell him that she cared for him, the same as he would never tell her, but he could read her, it was behind all her words and actions of late. Or perhaps she was just committed to her Hippocratic Oath and was determined to get him back on his feet as a personal goal. Slowly, he began to apply pressure with his leg, pushing into her hand as she began to bend his knee. A brief smile flashed across her face but she caught it quickly and turned it back into a hard line. Izaya smiled too, having noticed. 

 

“I want to go back by the end of the year,” she said, calmly. She gently moved his foot back and forth, knuckles pressing beneath the curve of the arch. “It’s been fifteen months since we left Ikebukuro.”

 

Izaya swallowed thickly and he felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought of the city. “Y-You can go whenever you like.” 

 

“You’re coming too.” 

 

“No.”

 

Namie raised a brow and pushed his knee up higher so that his calve muscle was stretched. “Don't be so pathetic. You have to come home eventually.”

 

“Ikebukuro is n-not m-m-my home,” he stated, nervously. Namie dropped his leg slowly and stood again, taking a few steps back so she could look at him. He’d lost weight over the past year. Even though he covered his body with thick woollen jumpers, it was obvious from the hollowness of his face. He looked well otherwise - his hair was neat, his eyes had gotten back their dark, expressive gleam and his arms were completely healed, though a little weak. 

 

“Then why do you still keep tabs on it?” she asked, a nasty smile on her face. Izaya stared back at her stonily. “You always fall asleep with your laptop open, idiot. I saw that you were lurking in chat rooms and sending data out to clients. You never stop working, do you?”

 

“There is always inf-formation to sell. That never stops,” he responded, sounding peeved. “But that doesn't mean I want to go back there. I can work remotely or find new contacts in a n-new city.”

 

“As if,” she scoffed. “You could never stay away from Ikebukuro. You are obsessed with that place because there are monsters around every corner.”

 

“I'm not repeating myself again, N-Namie,” he sighed, frowning. She rolled her eyes and held out a hand, which he stared at blankly. “You want me to-?”

 

Namie nodded and he sighed again, dramatically. With a deep breath he pushed against the arms of his chair and slowly settled on his feet. He was still shaky, unsteady, but he was making progress. Pain still burned in his hips and at the small of his back, but it was duller now and much more manageable. He held his arms in front of him for balance and took a small step forward. Then another, and another, until he reached his secretary and made to grasp her shoulders with his hands. Much to his displeasure, Namie took another step back. 

 

“Again,” she ordered. 

 

Izaya scowled at her darkly, but continued advancing slowly. For every two of his small, shaky steps, she would take one steady one away from him. By the time her back hit the wall on the other side of the room, the man was panting. She could see a slight sheen on his forehead from the exertion and there was pain evident in his expression. 

 

“Come on,” she urged, smiling unpleasantly. He looked up at her through his lashes and she noticed that his eyes were watering. 

 

“I c-can’t, you f-fucking bitc-”

 

“‘ _ I can’t’ _ . Don’t give me that shit,” Namie snapped, mocking his voice. If she had to be encouraging to the insufferable man, she wasn’t going to do it nicely. He looked at her, annoyed, but it wasn’t enough. She knew exactly the right strings to pull. “I thought you were stronger than this,  _ flea. _ ”

 

Izaya’s lip curled at the use of that word, a word only one person in the world referred to him as. Namie was smirking at his reaction and he forced his legs to  _ keep moving.  _ When he reached her, one of his knees buckled and he placed a hand against the wall beside her bicep to prop himself up. He took in a much needed breath and tried to calm the mixture of anger and panic that pervaded him. 

 

“Good,” Namie murmured. 

 

“F-fuck you,” he hissed in response. He leaned forward so that he could rest his forehead against her shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m w-worn out or I’d kill you.”

 

“Sure. Like you could do anything without me,” she said, patting his head demeaningly. She ducked under his arm and laced one of hers around his waist so that she could support him as they walked back to his chair. “It annoys me that you can bounce back from all these things so easily.”

 

“Trust me,” he panted, as she lowered him back into the wheelchair. “This isn't easy. Walking seems s-so simple until you can't do it anymore.”

 

Namie moved behind the exhausted informant and pushed him into the kitchen-diner so that she could prepare dinner. They had been staying in a short-term rental apartment in  Ōta City , which was only around forty-five minutes drive from his apartment in Shinjuku. It was far enough away that the man felt safe, far enough away to forget about Ikebukuro for a while, but close enough to keep tabs on his business contacts. He had more money than he knew what to do with, so keeping two residences wasn’t an issue. For the first few months of his recovery he had considered selling the flat in Shinjuku so that he could sever all ties but he found himself unable to do so. Part of him knew, deep down, that one day he would want to go back. He wanted to make sure he was ready - that he could be somewhat mobile, that he could sleep without nightmares of what happened and that he could face his friends and clients without stammering in panic. He wanted to make sure that he would be able to hide how traumatised the experience had truthfully been for him. Behind his closed eyes, he saw the monster, he heard its roar, and he prayed it wasn’t coming to finish him off. Izaya manoeuvred himself so that he was sat at the table and flipped open his laptop. He paused before looking down at the screen and glanced at the woman across the room. He didn’t know why she decided to help him - boredom, perhaps, or loneliness, she was so very similar to him after all - but he was glad. 

 

“Thank you f-fo-for all your help,” he said, carefully. She glanced over her shoulder and for once he wasn’t smirking, or scowling and he didn’t appear to be joking. He just looked tired. “You’re a good-.”

 

He paused for a moment, letting the word  _ friend  _ die on his lips before it was spoken. Quickly, he looked down at his hands. 

 

“-secretary.”  

 

The woman turned away from him and picked up a carving knife so she could start chopping the vegetables. She didn't reply at first and he watched her silently. Finally, she glanced back at him and spoke, her face in the same neutral expression as ever. 

 

“Hot pot okay?”

 

“That sounds good,” Izaya smiled and nodded, leaning his cheek against his knuckles. The significance of the dish was not lost on him. What an odd woman she was, he thought, chuckling softly. He switched on the laptop and tapped his fingers lightly against his cheekbone as it booted. “Can you put extra chillies in please?”

 

“No.”

 

“But N-Namie-”

 

She turned to glare and pointed the sharp kitchen knife in his direction. “No. I know how spicy you like your food and I’m not putting myself through that again. If you want extra put them in your own bowl, not in the pot.”

 

The informant gave a dramatic sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, in a mock strop. “So mean.”

 

The rest of the night ticked away pleasantly. The pair of them ate together at the dinner table, watching a documentary about Greek tragedy on Izaya’s propped-up laptop. She called him Dolos, a spirit of deception and treachery, he retorted that she would therefore be his counterpart, Apate, a being of deceit and the daughter of Nyx. They disagreed with one another and it was Namie who found more fitting comparisons. 

 

_ ‘And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, _

_ With Atë' by his side come hot from Hell’ _

 

“ Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice, cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war,” he recited, smirking. _ “ _ You compare me to Caesar?” 

 

“I thought it fitting,” she replied, tonelessly. 

 

“I’m hardly a soldier, Namie,” he said, amused. He wouldn’t tell her he was pleased with the comparison. “Which makes you Ate, does it not? Ruin and hubris - your virtues, indeed.”

 

“Hmm. We know who your Mark Antony would be, don’t we?” she hummed, raising piece of meat to her lips. Her eyes glinted wickedly and her teeth sparkled before she tore into the flesh. “Or more like Achilles and Hector, perhaps? Hector never stood a chance.” 

 

Izaya frowned and the noodles he had been intending to eat slipped out from between the chopsticks in his hand and slithered onto the table with a wet slap. “Sh-shut up.”

 

Namie laughed, the sound playfully vicious. She had a horrible laugh, Izaya often told her it was ugly, but she knew he only disliked it because it meant she had found something nasty to say and it was usually directed at him. “Just be glad he didn’t strap you to the back of the black bike and drag your dead body around the city.”

 

“Sh-shut up about him,” he answered. His voice was gentle and she would have taken it as gentle had there not been hatred so obviously seeping from every word. “N-not worth m-my t-ti-t-”

 

He couldn't get the last word out but she left it. He never could when talking about that man. 

 

After their stomachs were full and the dirty pots were stashed in the sink, they moved to the living room sofas and debated a number of topics for a while, until Namie noticed his eyelids drooping. 

 

“You should go to bed,” she stated. He shot her a dark glare. 

 

It was more of an order than a suggestion. Getting Izaya to go to sleep was one of the more difficult tasks she found herself burdened with. He was extremely stubborn and would fight tooth and nail to remain downstairs, to keep conversation going or busy himself in the chatrooms he frequented. The reason why was obvious - she had heard the pained whimpers and staggered, strained gasps that were the result of terrible night terrors through the wall that adjoined their bedrooms. Izaya never spoke to her about the images in his head, but she could make an educated guess from the stammered name that the man whispered during his slumber. The result of these nightmares was that Izaya slept as little as possible and spent more time irritating Namie. 

 

“Not tired.”

 

Namie rolled her eyes. “You look tired.”

 

“I’m not. It’s only eight-thirty,” he retorted, picking up the TV remote. He pushed a button to switch the screen on and the low drone of the news filled the room. 

 

“True, but you’re recovering from  _ severe  _ injuries, you idiot. You need more rest than most.”

 

“Don’t wanna.”

 

“Excuse me?” she spluttered. 

 

The man turned his head to look at her and smirked. “Don’t. Wanna.”

 

“Unbelievable. You are such a fucking child, Orihara,” Namie scoffed. The woman got to her feet, moving into the adjoining kitchen so that she could explore the fridge. 

 

“N-Namie! What are you doing?” he called, in his most grating sing-song tone. She stormed back into the living room and he heard the familiar crack of a bottle being opened. He smiled widely when he saw the beer in her hand. “Beer. How uncouth.”

 

“I like beer,” she replied, sitting back on the other end of the sofa. “You’re a pain in the ass tonight, so I need a drink, okay?” 

 

“Fine by me,” he answered, waving a hand carelessly at her. “Why not have a cigarette too?”

 

“What?”

 

He tilted his head. “What do you mean ‘what’? You think I don’t notice when you go out onto the balcony to ‘take phone calls’ that you come back stinking of smoke?” 

 

Namie scowled at him. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

 

“N-neither do you.”

 

“True,” she sighed. She drew a packet of smokes from her top pocket and slid one of them into her mouth. “Do you want me to open a window?”

 

“No, it’s fine. I like the sm-” his words faded before he could finish. He was going to say that he liked the smell but he shook the thought away before panic could bubble in his chest. 

 

The woman didn’t question him, she simply lit her cigarette and started to inhale. “You need to work harder and sleep more. I’m not trying to be a bitch, Izaya. I’m trying to help.”

 

Izaya chuckled. Without warning he flopped onto his back, resting his head on Namie’s thigh with his face turned toward the television. She stiffened, he could feel her leg muscle go rigid beneath his cheek, but she didn’t push him away. He relaxed, allowing the smell of smoke to take his mind to a place he rarely let it drift to. They remained in that position until Namie finished her cigarette and she flicked it into the cup of cold coffee on the table, a cup that was his. 

 

“I was going to drink that!”

 

“No you weren’t,” she snorted. Izaya smiled and relaxed against her, placing his arms over his stomach. His body was aching from exercise and exhaustion was finally catching up with him. He hoped for a peaceful night, but he doubted it would come. The beast always arrived eventually. 

 

“Even if you are from hell, I’m glad you’re at my side, Ate,” he yawned, closing his eyes. “Even Caesar n-needs someone to watch over him. ‘Specially when my M-Mark Antony is more like Cerberus.”

 

Namie watched him closely. When his eyes were shut and the smirk was gone, he looked so young. His skin was blemish-free and smooth, so much like a child’s. The woman sighed and relaxed into the sofa cushions, one hand still holding her beer, while the other moved to softly pet his hair. Izaya let out something akin to a purr and smiled against her knee. 

 

“Would you like to be friends?” he asked, slipping in and out of the first stage of sleep every few seconds. Namie’s fingers felt pleasant as they raked across his scalp, the pressure was perfect. There was silence for a little while, but it was comfortable. He was so close to drifting off when she replied, her voice low and soft.

 

“We don’t need to be friends,” her voice was hazy, he couldn’t tell if he were dreaming already. “We’re basically family.”

 

_ Family.  _ That was a word he never cared for. His parents, his brattish sisters, he never really cared for them either. But the idea, perhaps there was something there. Izaya craved closeness, he innately desired love, in some form. Namie was an unpleasant character in a lot of ways, but she was constant, he liked her. Not in any romantic sense, nor did he think she had any such inclinations toward him, but one of acceptance. They really were very alike, he thought, as he finally collapsed into sleep. Perhaps they both wouldn’t have to be so lonely with the other around.    

 

“Three months,” she said. Her fingertips brushed his ear and he shivered in response. “We’ll be home in time for Christmas.”

 

“Whatever you say, Namie,” he answered, just before losing his grip on consciousness and falling into sleep. 

 

-0- 

  
  


Shizuo raked a hand through his hair and let the wet strands flop back against his forehead. He wiped the steam off the mirror with the side of his arm and stared blankly at his reflection. Auburn hair suited him and he liked the way it looked. After the final confrontation with Izaya he decided to switch from the usual blonde to another colour, something a little less noticeable. It was still light but he found that less people stared at him in the street. When he got rid of the bartender’s uniform in favour of ordinary button-ups and plain trousers, he was almost part of the crowd. He shoved on a shirt and moved into the living area to get a much-needed beer. It had been a long day. They were all long. 

 

He still worked with Tom and had been graciously allowed out of the office for a few months now. Despite his desire to fight less, he needed to let his pent up frustration somehow and he was lucky that no-one cared what he did to the scumbags they visited each day. Tom seemed pleased to have him back on the streets, he said he felt safer with Shizuo by his side which pleased the red-head immensely. 

 

The days passed by peacefully enough, fragile silence punctured only by the occasional brawl between him and unfortunate opponents. He tried to find a hobby, went to a couple of sports events, even went to a couple cooking classes but he never really cared for any of them. After a while, he stopping pushing expectations onto himself - he was happy enough to be surrounded by his friends during the day and laid out on his sofa with a book at night. Sometimes he went for a walk with Celty, other evenings he would go to Russia Sushi and try to get Simon to teach him a few basic Russian words whilst having dinner. Christmas was coming, people were getting into the spirit of the season, people were happy. It was peaceful, it was still, it was  _ so fucking quiet.  _

 

Shizuo took a sip of beer and turned the page of the history book he was re-reading. It didn’t hit him until he saw the name ‘ _ Izaya Orihara’  _ scribbled in the margin next to a circled sentence that he realised this was the book the flea had been reading that morning when he lay wounded on the same sofa upon which Shizuo now sat. ‘... _ wanting in humanity’.  _ That was what he’d outlined with Izaya in mind. It was a fair observation, or at least he thought it had been at the time. The flea was so above everything and everyone, he didn’t seem totally human, more like a hybrid of blood-sucking insect and snake. Shizuo had proved that wrong though, hadn’t he? The informant’s bones had broken like those of a human. The blood he’d vomited down his chin was red and stark and mortal. 

 

Shizuo snapped the book shut and threw it to the side. He drew in a deep breath as his stomach began turning at the thought of the blood, all that blood. There was no way Izaya could have survived that confrontation. The red-head had been confused about how to feel. At first he had been angry, so overwhelmingly angry, that he didn’t care what happened to the other man, he didn’t care if he was dead. Izaya was always the one to provoke him, to taunt the ‘monster’, so he deserved it, didn’t he? It was only when the months started to pass that those thoughts grew bitter. It wasn’t entirely Izaya’s fault, he realised, blind drunk one night at three in the morning. He didn’t have to retaliate, he was to blame for being unable to control his violent temper. After this was cemented in his mind, his outlook slowly began to change. Izaya was right, he was a monster who could break people’s bones with such little effort, he could rip infrastructure out of the ground and bend metal as if it were rubber. He could lose himself so completely in his anger that he could mutilate an already wounded man, feel nothing at kicking him after he dared to ask for acceptance and looked at him with  _ hope  _ in his eyes. Maybe Izaya deserved hope, maybe he didn’t - it wasn’t up to Shizuo to cast that die. 

 

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, taking another swig of beer. 

 

He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair again. The man didn’t think about Izaya much, an active effort rather than simply forgetting, but when he did he tended to get lost. It was a complicated mess, one Shizuo felt unequipped to untangle alone. He often lingered on the reason why he rejected him, why he left him alone in that dirty alleyway. At the time, he had been trying to protect himself, he’d spent his entire life trying to avoid the flea’s chaos so why would he intentionally throw himself into the fire? It didn’t occur to him that acceptance might have dimmed the flames, rather than fanned them. Going over and over the events didn’t get him anywhere, speculation gave him little closure. 

 

He clenched his fist at his side. It was a peaceful life he led now, so quiet,  _ so fucking quiet.  _ The red-head growled under his breath as he felt the vein beside his temple start to beat against the skin. He didn’t miss the chase, he told himself, he didn’t miss that fucking awful, evil, brilliant man. 

 

_ I just wanted a quiet life.  _ What a joke. Violence ran through him thick and natural as blood. There was no-one else who genuinely excited him, no-one else he both despised and craved, no-one who matched up. Shizuo slammed his fist down onto the coffee table with an angered grunt and it splintered into several pieces. Izaya better not be dead, he thought, breathing shakily. If he was dead, Shizuo would be so disappointed. 

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he irritably flipped it open. 

 

_ Celty Sturluson  _

**21:00** \- Are you free? We need to talk NOW.  

-0-

 

_ You have been successfully logged on.  _

 

20:18PM -  _ Setton  _

It’s good to hear everyone is okay! It’s been a while for all of us. We should try and meet up one day.

 

20:19PM -  _ Saika _

That would be lovely. 

 

20:19PM -  _ Bakyura _

yeah! would b super gr8!

 

20:20PM -  _ Saki _

I’d love to see people again. :) 

 

20:20PM -  _ Taro Tanaka  _

It’s nice to see people are starting to use the chat room again. How are you doing, Setton?

 

20:25PM -  _ Setton  _

I’m well, thank you for asking. Sorry, I just had to chase an annoying bug out of the room!

 

20:27PM -  _ Bakyura _

haha, poor shinra

 

_ You have turned on your visibility.  _

 

20:30PM -  _ Kanra _

Hi everyone! So good to see your icons again. 

 

20:32PM -  _ Setton  _

Kanra?

 

20:33PM -  _ Kanra _

Yep! What, did you think I was dead? And none of you called? My heart bleeds, it really does. 

 

20:34PM -  _ Kanra _

Ah, I’m just aching to get started!

 

20:35PM -  _ Kanra _

Did you miss me? I missed you. My dear friends, all of you - I love you!

 

20:37PM -  _ Kanra _

I’ll be seeing you all very soon. 

 

_ You are successfully logged off.  _

  
  
  



	13. Winter is dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos! Moving things along a bit in this chapter - there will be more of a meeting/confrontation between the two of them in the next one.

There was a buzz in the city that night. It started as a dull hum and escalated quickly into a deafening roar. The colour gangs felt oddly excited, things had gotten a little too peaceful for their liking and the buzz brought the promise of trouble. The Awakusu-Kai had no strong feelings toward the information, they had been expecting this would happen sooner or later. Two sisters said they didn’t care, a high-school trio felt their hearts leap nervously into their throats, the doctor clapped his hands excitedly and the headless rider sped across the city to see a friend. By the time she arrived at his door, the city behind her was alive, throbbing with emotion at the return of its information broker, welcoming him home. 

 

“Celty,” Shizuo greeted. The rider stormed ahead of him, slamming the door to his apartment behind her. She pushed him backward until he was sat on his sofa and stood tall above him. The man frowned, confused by her frantic behaviour. “What’s up? You seem stressed out.”

 

The rider typed out a number of things on her PDA and deleted them, until finally she held it up to his face.  _ I need to tell you something. Please don’t freak out.  _

 

“Freak out?” he asked, suspiciously. “Did someone fuck with you? You want me to lay someone into the dirt?”

 

_ No, no. That’s not it at all.  _ She typed, hastily. The woman placed a hand on her helmet as if she were running it through her hair.  _ You know the Dollars chat room, the one that I showed you a couple of times? Anri, Mikado, everyone, they use it.  _

 

“Yeah? I don’t use it personally ‘cos my phone’s a piece of shit.”

 

Celty nodded. She paused for a moment, then slowly, carefully, typed out what she had to say.  _ Well, a user called Kanra appeared again tonight. Let me show you the messages. Don’t break my PDA, okay? _

 

“Pinky promise,” he replied, smirking at her. 

 

She handed the man her phone and scurried to sit down beside him. With one hand, he scrolled through the chat messages, frown growing ever more prominent. He gave her back the device and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

“I don’t get it,” he stated, gruffly.

 

_ Shizuo, it’s Izaya. He’s back.  _

 

The red-head felt his breath catch in his throat and he visibly stiffened. Had it been so long that he had forgotten that grating tone of voice - that self-righteous arrogance was evident even in text format. A surge of anger pulsed through him, followed by a quieter sense of relief. For a minute, he was lost in feeling and didn’t notice the way his fists were shaking and blood rushed to his face, staining the handsome features a crude shade of scarlet. 

 

_ Do you want me to hold you back?  _ Celty asked. 

 

Shizuo took in a deep breath and tried to quell his trembling. “No, it’s fine.”

 

_ It’s not fine, Shizuo. I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.  _

 

“I’m fucking fine, okay?”he snapped. Violent rage was eating him up inside, it was making it difficult to stay still, to keep calm. The man couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for his reaction - he was furious that the flea back back in the city, but also pleased. He was relieved he wasn’t dead but also disappointed. He was angry with himself due to the way his heart raced at the news. The little fucking snake, how could he have survived their fight? “Never wound a snake. Kill it. I should have fuckin-” 

 

_ You’re not fine. He tried to kill you! You almost killed him. It’s okay not to be fine. _

 

“Shut up!” he roared, standing. Blinded by fury, he went to smash his bottle of beer against the wall but was halted by a strong force holding his wrist. He swivelled violently to see a thick shadow curling up his arm. He bore his teeth at the Dullahan, but she remained firm and when he took a step toward her, more tendrils held him down. She forced him to his knees and crouched in front of him. Gently, she laid one hand against his cheek. 

 

_ Do not play with monsters. You’re strong but you’re still human. _

 

The man felt his rage die quickly and he relaxed his muscles enough for Celty to release him. He dropped forward, hands landing on the floor and his head on her shoulder. 

 

“You’re not a monster, Celty,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

 

He raised his head when she placed her PDA under his nose.  _ It’s okay. We all have our weaknesses.  _

 

“Yeah,” he replied, absently. “Weaknesses.”

 

_ I don't know what Izaya is planning, if anything, but know you will have me by your side no matter what.  _

 

“Izaya will have my head for what I did. I’m almost tempted to give it to him,” Shizuo laughed bitterly. He peered at Celty, smile dropping. “What about if I kill him this time? I’m not saying I want to but - would you still-?”

 

The headless woman silenced him with a soft hand on his shoulder. She pointed at her PDA again, stabbing her finger into the words ‘ _ no matter what _ ’. Shizuo smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder, mirroring her own action. 

 

_ If Izaya takes your head we could start a club?  _

 

“Heh, sure,” Shizuo chuckled. He sighed tiredly, feeling the weight of the day catch up with him. “This a lot to ask and you can say no if you want to but would you mind stayin’ over? I have a feeling I might do something stupid if I'm alone.”

 

_ Sure. Let me message Shinra.  _

 

“He’s gonna kill me for taking up your time, ain't he?” 

 

_ He’ll be fine, he listens to me.  _

 

“That’s true,” he chuckled, standing. “Thanks Celty. You're too good to me. I'll take the sofa bed so you can use my bed, it's a lot comfier. ” 

 

The rider’s shoulders shook as if she were laughing. She laid flat on the floor and stretched out, easing her muscles. 

 

_ Can I borrow some pyjamas? And do you mind if I take my helmet off? _

 

“Yeah sure, I'll grab you some clean ones. And of course I don’t mind.”

 

Celty removed her helmet and set it on the floor next to her. Shizuo gave her a smile before crossing into his bedroom to get her some clothes. He liked it when the Dullahan showed her full self, it reminded him of how alien she really was to him. He could understand Shinra’s fascination with her, she was an interesting creature. When he returned, she was holding her phone above her head, seemingly focused on a message.  

 

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked, dropping a t-shirt and sweatpants onto her stomach. 

 

Celty lowered her phone and her neck tilted in a small nod. 

 

_ Yeah, all good. Thanks for the clothes, I'll go get changed.  _

 

“Sure,” he replied, as she got to her feet. 

 

She hastened to the bathroom, clothes in hand. There were times she was glad she didn't have a head, for she felt her expressions would be telling. And surely she would have looked flustered upon seeing the private message from Izaya pop up on her screen. 

 

‘I have a job for you. Please come to my office in Shinjuku in two days time. Oh and could you pick up a banana milkshake for me on the way? Milk strengthens the bones! Xx - I’

  
  


-0- 

  
  


The informant returned to Shinjuku in time for Christmas, just as Namie had suggested. It took a lot of persuading on her part, he was an incredibly stubborn individual. He was oddly quiet the entire journey back to Shinjuku - Namie wondered if he was afraid but she kept her mouth shut for fear that he would change his mind at the last minute. Being so far apart from her darling Seiji had been horrid so she was eager to return. It had been very late when they arrived back at his apartment, so the man had gone straight to bed. Namie had been too tired to go back to her own home and collapsed on the sofa, unable to even make it into the spare bedroom. 

 

One of the prerequisites of their return was that Namie was to move in with her employer for a while, at least until he was comfortable to be alone. Part of her was annoyed by this request, but another was pleasantly surprised that Izaya seemed to need her, even after regaining a lot of independence and mobility. She had an inkling that it might be the company he needed rather than further help, he didn’t like being alone anymore. Over the past week, she had slowly moved a lot of her belongings into his home, taking the spacious spare bedroom to sleep in. Much to her surprise, Izaya was easy to cohabitate with. He was very clean and tidy, he was quiet - often unnervingly quiet - and he was actually okay to be around when he wasn’t actively trying to irritate her. It was uncomfortable being so comfortable at first, but she soon learned to relax. It had been a few weeks since they arrived and everything was settled - the informant was throwing himself excitedly back into his work, though he mainly stayed in the comfort of his apartment rather than taking to the streets as he used to. 

 

Izaya leaned back in his office chair and stretched his fingers out on the armrests. Then, as he always did, he pushed a foot against the leg of his desk and span around wildly. He laughed gleefully, only stopping when he saw Namie glaring at him disapprovingly from across the room. 

 

“So immature,” she grumbled, stapling the stack of papers she had been holding a little too aggressively. Izaya smirked - she was definitely picturing his head under the staple gun.

 

“Aww, come on, Namie,” he whined, making his voice as nasal and annoying as possible. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

 

“Shut up. I need to concentrate and I can’t when you’re screeching like a banshee. I’ve got months of work backed up thanks to you getting your ass kicked,” she groaned. She stood and crossed the room so that she could throw the papers on his desk. She leaned against the table and he moved forward, so that their faces were close. A teasing smile spread across his face. “Be quiet, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

 

The man leaned forward a fraction closer and raised a brow. “I can put my mouth to other uses, if you’d prefer?”

 

“Fuck off, letch.”

 

Izaya grinned widely as she went back to her desk. “Understood.”

 

“Good,” she replied, sternly. He had gotten outrageously flirty in the past few months, always getting too close for comfort and making filthy suggestions before they retreated to their respective bedrooms to sleep. She expected it came from boredom and a desire to taunt her than attraction. “What are you going to do when you get faced with a certain bartender anyway? Because I’m not going to look after you again, once was enough.”

 

“To be perfectly honest, N-Namie, I have no idea,” he sighed, leaning his elbows against the table. “I haven’t worked that out yet.”

 

“Surely you’re planning some sort of elaborate revenge? That’s classic you.”

 

He chuckled lightly and span his chair around so that he was facing the window. It was freezing cold outside and a thin layer of frost covered most of the city. It was good to be home, he thought, but also somewhat terrifying. The informant had mused over what he might do if faced with Shizuo again, but he kept drawing blanks. He didn’t have any form of revenge planned, he just didn’t want to see him. Izaya had been beaten in their final fight, fair and square, he was not too proud to concede the victory. After months of rehabilitation, he wasn’t sure he could face Shizuo, he didn’t want to get hurt again and goodness knows the beast couldn’t control his temper. Even the thought of the monster made his stomach twist and his hands tremble ever so slightly. It would be fun to play around with the gangs, maybe get some tension between a few periphery groups he had his eye on, but he would leave the issue of Shizuo Heiwajima for now. The man hadn’t even been into Ikebukuro yet, he’d barely left the apartment since they arrived back.

 

“Namie,” he called. He stook from his desk chair and took a few shaky steps to retrieve the stick he used to assist him when walking. His legs were still weak but he could walk for a short time without too much pain, thanks to his secretary’s strict exercise program. “Would you like to go out for dinner?”

 

“Hmm?” she asked, turning to face him. Izaya didn’t leave the house much, so it was a surprise to hear him offer that. “Uh, sure. Where do you want to go?”

 

“Russia Sushi.”

 

“In Ikebukuro?” she said, raising a brow. “Are you sure you’re re-?”

 

“Yes,” he interrupted, forcefully. “I have to go at some point and I’m in the mood for sushi.” 

 

The woman stared at his blankly for a moment, then sighed and reached for her bag. “Fine.”

 

“Thank you Na-mi-e!” he squawked, happily. 

 

“Do you want to take the chair?” she asked, shrugging on her jacket. 

 

Izaya’s smile dropped momentarily. It would be embarrassing for him to be seen around the city in a wheelchair, but it would be worse if he tripped and fell whilst walking so he conceded. “Yes.”

 

Namie nodded. “Good.”

 

“And maybe after dinner we could come home and fuc-” Izaya laughed. His words were cut off when Namie kicked the stick out from under him and unbalanced him enough to send him to his knees. The tumble didn’t stop him from giggling like a mad man as she stomped down the hallway to the front door, leaving him to struggle slowly back onto his feet. 

 

-0- 

 

Shizuo flicked the smoking end of his cigarette away hastily, wanting to get his hands out of the winter air as soon as possible. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat and hunched his shoulders to try and protect his neck from the cold. It had been a long day, he hated walking around the city during this season, it was unpleasant to be outside for extended periods of time. He was ravenously hungry that evening and decided that he would treat himself to one of his favourite dinners - an over-sized bowl of BBQ pork ramen, perfect to warm up his insides. His mouth was already watering at the thought. 

 

The previous night had been fun. Celty stayed over until morning, which he was very grateful for as she calmed him down considerably. They stayed up late and watched a few sci-fi films, the Dullahan was both fond and frightened of aliens so it made for an amusing time. Shizuo always had a good time hanging out with Celty, even if his phone did ping constantly with comical threats from Shinra. She dropped him off at work at nine and then headed home, leaving him with a parting piece of advice. 

 

_ Don’t go looking for Izaya, okay? He’s not worth your time. Call me if you need me.  _

 

He hadn’t intended to seek out the flea, though a very small part of him was curious as to his state. Knowing Izaya he was better than ever, probably causing trouble right this second with a manic smile on his face. No matter how much a snake sheds its skin, it’s still a snake. Shizuo’s brow furrowed unhappily and rounded a corner. He made his way across the intersection toward his destination - Russia Sushi. With a smile, he waved at Simon, who was stood outside welcoming customers dressed as Father Christmas. 

 

“Shizuo!” the hulking man said, jovially. “You come inside for sushi?”

 

“Too cold for sushi, Simon,” he replied, placing his hand on the door. “But I’m gonna grab some ramen. You coming inside later?”

 

“I will be inside soon,” he nodded, smiling widely. “We have a drink?”

 

“Sure,” Shizuo grinned. Simon was a lot of fun to drink with, always eager to show off various spirits from his homeland. “You’ll need it after standing in the cold all night.”

 

“It is not so cold here compared to Russia,” Simon chuckled, waving a hand through the cool air. “Is manageable.”

 

“Rather you than me, fella’,” he said, clapping a hand on the Russian’s shoulder. He headed into the restaurant, revelling in the warmth of the building and the delicious smells wafting through the air. The redhead rubbed his cold fingers together as he made his way to the bar. He shrugged off his coat and laid it over the back of a stool, taking a seat. Dennis approached from the opposite side of the bar, raising a hand in greeting. 

 

“Shizuo,” he said, warmly. “Nice to see you again. You want the usual?”

 

“Yes, that would be great.”

 

“Eat in or takeaway?” he asked. He reached under the bar and retrieved a bottle of dry beer for Shizuo. Swiftly, he cracked the top off and placed it in front of him. 

 

“Uh, eat in,” he decided, taking hold of the bottle. “Be nice to stay out of the cold for a while. Plus I said I’d have a drink with Simon later.”

 

“Ah hah!” Dennis laughed, typing his order into the till. “Well, we’ll have to crack out the Kvass again.”

 

“Jesus, that shit was bitter,” he said, taking a sip of the beer. 

 

“Pah, you just have bad taste,” Dennis replied. “Order’s through. I gotta go look after a table, see you in a sec.”

 

“No worries,” he answered, giving him a nod. 

 

Dennis moved away from the bar and out into the restaurant, leaving Shizuo sitting alone. He raised the bottle up to his lips and took a large gulp. It was nice to be out of his house, the sounds of the city were soothing to him. When he lowered the bottle, he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror behind the spirits on the bar. He ruffled his hair and pursed his lips when it wouldn’t fall straight. After a moment, he dropped his hand and it was only then that he noticed another face staring at him from the reflection of the mirror. A face he hadn’t seen in a long time. Shizuo felt his stomach turn and he felt sick despite it being empty. He swivelled on the stool and faced the man standing a few feet behind him. 

 

“Flea?” 

 

Izaya’s face was pale, his eyes were wide. He looked as sickly as he ever did, if a touch thinner, and Shizuo could see a number of signs of their fight scattered over his form. There was a few light scars on his face and neck, so light that one wouldn’t see them unless they were looking for them as Shizuo was. His shoulders were hunched and he had one of his his arms wound around his stomach protectively.  The redhead swallowed thickly - he remembered the way those thin bones cracked like twigs beneath his fist. Izaya’s other hand was clenching the top of a walking stick which he was leaning heavily against. The informant wasn’t speaking, he was simply staring vacantly at Shizuo, clearly lost deep within his own thoughts. His facial features were pulled tight, his lips in a hard line and his jaw visibly clenched. The muscle beneath his eye was twitching rapidly. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Shizuo asked. The words came out far more aggressively than he intended and he could feel the familiar heat of anger rising inside of him, though he couldn’t figure out why. Izaya looked pathetic, stock still and somewhat terrified. Shizuo shook the thought away - Izaya wasn’t scared of him, he wasn’t scared of anything. Remember he tried to kill you, he told himself, he’s not as weak as he looks. “Answer me.”

 

The informant turned his head from side to side, searching the restaurant wildly for his secretary. “N-N-Namie!”

 

Shizuo frowned and stood so that he could take a step toward him. Izaya let out a noise of panic, a sound akin to a strangled scream, and held his free hand out in front of him. His dark eyes were wide and full of alarm as the redhead approached him. The panic was unexpected but then so was Shizuo’s appearance - he hadn’t expected to see him on his first visit back. His presence was terrifying, the shock hit him like a truck and he felt his throat close up. 

 

“G-get away f-f-from m-me,” he stuttered, stress taking a toll on his speech. He took a step back but in his panic he lost his grip on his cane, wobbled and fell back against one of the thankfully empty tables. His shoulder his against a chair and they both roughly clattered to the floor. With a pained gasp, he looked up at the man standing above him and tried not to let his breathing get out of control. “Stay b-back.”

 

Shizuo frowned. “Why are you talking like that?”

 

Before Izaya could answer in that strangely soft, stammering tone that was so unlike his usual sneering voice, someone shoved Shizuo’s side. He barely moved, but it was enough force to get him to take a step back. Namie stepped in between the two men, eyes glaring fire at Shizuo as she folded her arms across her chest. Silently, she turned around and stepped toward Izaya, holding out a hand. 

 

“Come on,” she ordered, heaving the shaking man onto his feet. She handed him his stick and held his shoulder tightly in her hand. Her face remained passive, no sign of concern visible which the informant was grateful for. “Chair’s set up outside, are you okay to walk there?”

 

Izaya nodded and turned away from her so that he could head toward the door. He didn’t give Shizuo another glance, too preoccupied with calming himself down. 

 

“Izaya, wai-” Shizuo began. He halted when Namie pressed her fingertips into his chest, blocking his movement forward. He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you, his bodyguard?”

 

“Don’t come near him again,” she hissed, venom seeping from her words. “Or I will personally make sure that you are shot like a dog.”

 

Shizuo scowled unpleasantly. “Try it, I dare you.”

 

Namie laughed and he found the sound grating. “Beast.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, taking a step toward her. She didn’t even flinch. 

 

“I was the one who had to resuscitate him. I was the one who helped set the arms you broke and brace the spine you permanently fucked up,” she spat, viciously. “I had to watch him cry when he found out he won’t be able to walk properly anymore. I had to stitch up each open wound and soothe the bruises you left - do you know how much blood there was?”

 

“He tried to kill me, it was his own fa-” Shizuo began.

 

The woman took a step forward and jabbed her finger into his chest. Her teeth were bared aggressively, as if she were finally letting out all the pent up frustration of the last fifteen months. 

 

“It was everywhere, it went all over my hands and clothes and I couldn’t get the stains out for weeks.”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

“I saw everything you did and I fixed it as best I could, despite my dislike of him,” she snarled, lowering her voice slightly. They were lucky that there were very few people in Russia Sushi that night, those that were were tucked away in the other room out of sight. “I, more than anyone except perhaps Izaya himself, have the right to call you a  _ beast _ .”

 

The redhead was tense after listening to her accusation. She lowered her hand and tried to calm herself down, only now noticing that her hands were shaking. 

 

“He can’t walk properly?” Shizuo asked, weakly. A pang of guilt hit him and he didn’t even try and form an excuse for his actions. 

 

Namie looked at him with distaste. “No. His spine was damaged when you threw him through a brick wall. He can manage small distances on his feet, but not often. Happy?”

 

He looked away from her accusing stare. Happy? No, he hated violence more than he hated Izaya, why would that make him happy? “No. I didn’t want to hurt him like that.”

 

“Then why did you? Couldn’t control your monstrous temper?” she scoffed. The woman started to walk towards the exit, not sparing him another glance. “I am a far more capable murderer than Izaya, Mr Heiwajima. Stay the fuck away from us or I’ll make sure you’re buried in several unmarked graves by the end of the week.”

 

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Shizuo alone. He stared at the door, wide-eyed and unmoving. Eventually, he sat back at the bar and ran a hand through his hair. He’d crippled the flea , he’d finally made the other man fear him like he always wanted. His chest was tight and he still felt like he was about to be sick. It didn’t feel good. 


	14. Mind your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one up! A lot of development here. Next chapter will pretty much be entirely Shizuo and Izaya meeting again. Enjoy!

Izaya was leaning against the wall by the door when she stormed out of Russia Sushi. Simon stood with him, one hand on the informant’s shoulder and a look of concern on his face. The smaller man looked as if he were about to pass out, his face was white as a sheet and he was visibly shaking. Namie huffed a sigh and approached them, folding her arms over her chest.

 

“This is a stupid question, but are you okay?” she asked, her tone flat. 

 

Izaya raised his head and gave her a thin smile. “Just d-dandy.” 

 

“We should go home,” she said, holding out a hand. He took it, lacing his trembling fingers through hers. She looked up at the hulking Russian and gave him a curt nod. “Thank you for watching him, Simon.” 

 

“It is no worry, Miss,” Simon said, cheerfully. “You must get Izaya to bed safely or he will end up on floor!”

 

“Heh, as tempting as it sounds to leave him in the gutter, I promise I'll get him back,” she chuckled, ignoring the informant’s death glare. “See you later.” 

 

“Good night, lovely lady! You come back for sushi soon!”

 

The enormous man entered the restaurant, humming a strange tune to himself, leaving Namie and Izaya alone in the chilling wind. The woman let him lean against her side as she hailed for a cab. He was shivering, so she pulled him closer.  

 

“I'm doing this because you're freezing,” she commented, before he could say anything. “Don't get any weird thoughts.” 

 

“T-to be honest, N-Namie, I can't think of m-much right now,” he mumbled. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to remind himself that Shizuo was still close, just through the glass door behind them. “Head’s all f-funny.” 

 

Namie frowned. “Breathe. He’s not going to hurt you.”

 

“Not tonight m-maybe,” he gasped, heart pounding aggressively against his chest. A cab pulled up in front of them and Izaya reached out hastily for the door handle. 

 

“Don't be so melodramatic,” Namie said, rolling her eyes. She collapsed the wheelchair and quickly stuffed it into the boot of the car. It was freezing and she was glad to be inside the cab, even if she was sat next to Izaya. 

 

“I'm n-not,” he replied, angrily. Namie slammed the door shut and he flinched at the loud noise. “You're n-not the one who was beaten half t-to death by him.” 

 

“He’s just a mindless animal,” she snorted, after giving the driver directions. She knew what she was saying was a lie, Heiwajima most certainly was a dangerous creature. Izaya had been lucky to get away with his life. However, she would not allow him to wallow in self pity. “Nothing to be scared of.”

 

He glared at her incredulously. “I hate y-you.” 

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

“R-really, I hope y-you die.” 

 

“Sure.”

 

They remained in silence for the rest of the journey back to Shinjuku, but Namie didn't pull away when he reached for her hand and held it tightly in his own. She watched him curiously, only slightly disturbed by the way he kept his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched together. Izaya was obviously affected by the fight more than she had first thought, in terms of mental affectation at least. He wasn't crying, in fact it looked like he was angry with himself for some reason. She imagined he was annoyed at feeling weak but being unable to do nothing about it, that would certainly anger her. 

 

When they arrived back at the apartment, Izaya went straight to his bedroom without a word. Namie shook her head and retired to her own room after locking up - he was such a child. Scared little boy, she thought as she stripped off her shirt. She removed the rest of her clothes and folded them neatly away, before tiredly pulling on her pyjama shirt. Izaya’s house was wonderfully warm compared to outside thanks to the expensive heating system, so she stuck to wearing a pair of flannel shorts. He always turned the temperature up so high that she ended up overheating at night and the boiler controls were in his room so there was little she could do. The woman walked wearily to her bed and crawled beneath the covers, relaxing her muscles into the soft material. Now that she was alone and the quiet of the evening was sinking in, she let out the shaky breath she had been holding since facing Heiwajima. He was an intimidating beast, she knew he wouldn’t bat an eyelid at throwing her across the room or landing a punch if he wanted to. Quite frankly, she was surprised that he held himself back after she made such cutting remarks - he even looked a little ashamed of himself. The beast couldn’t be guilty, she thought, he wasn’t capable of such emotion. With a deep sigh, she flicked off the light and reached for her phone, wanting to browse the news before sleeping. It was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. 

 

“Namie?” Izaya’s voice called out from the darkness of the hallway.  She sat up and squinted, only able to see a vague shape of pale skin standing across the room. 

 

“What?” she answered, irritated.

 

“Uh- well,” his voice sounded smaller than she had ever heard it, so very soft and low. “Can I stay in here?”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I'm  _ not  _ going to fuck you?” she retorted, sharply. 

 

“I don't m-mean like that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I won't touch you. I j-just don't want to be by myself tonight.” 

 

Namie stared at the area where he stood and finally let out a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, sounding oddly relieved.

 

“But if you touch me, I will cut your dick off.”

 

“I w-won’t,” he said, with a yawn. “You’re not m-my type.”

 

“No, we both know what your type is, don’t we?” Namie laughed snidely as he slipped under the covers beside her. “Tall, blonde and monstrous.” 

 

Izaya scoffed and laid his head down on the pillow. He pulled the duvet tight around his cold body, facing away from her. She was struck by a memory she had nearly forgotten, of Seiji sneaking to sleep beside her when he was a very small child, perturbed by nightmares. A pang of affection hit her and she smiled softly at the back of his head before laying back down. She shook her head and rattled sense back - Izaya was  _ nothing  _ like Seiji. With a sigh, she turned away from him and tucked her hand under the pillow. In the still of the evening, all she could hear was the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the hallway and Izaya’s unsteady breathing. The man behind her was still shivering, which disturbed the mattress and irritated her greatly. 

 

“If you’re cold, get another blanket,” she hissed, breath whistling through her grit teeth. “Or better yet, go back to your own room and set yourself on fire.”

 

“I’m n-not cold,” he snapped, turning over to face the back of her head. “My heart won’t calm d-down.”

 

Namie huffed and turned over to look at him. She could see the features of his face vaguely in the dark of the room, the way his lips were straining down in a deep-set frown. “How do you feel when you think about Shizuo?”

 

Even the name made his stomach turn and his palms sweat. “I feel fine.”

 

“Have you had any nightmares recently?”

 

Yes, every night. They kept him from getting any more than two hours sleep. “No.”

 

Namie pursed her lips. “You’re a liar, Orihara. I know you don’t want to hear this but I think-”

 

“Shut your mouth, I’m not-”

 

“-you have post-traumatic stress disorder. Or some sort of panic dis-”

 

The informant blinked twice, furious at her for saying it out loud. Eventually, he turned away from her and closed his eyes, sulking. “I do not have anything. I’m fine.”

 

“Then why did you crawl into my bed like a scared little child?”

 

“Shut your mouth, Namie, you’re not a psychiatrist. I want to sleep.”

 

“Whatever, asshole.”

 

They fell asleep facing away from one another, matching scowls etched on their mouths. Namie was woken hours later by the pained whines from Izaya’s mouth, the trembling of his limbs, caused by the vision of his monster dancing in his head. Izaya woke at half four o’clock the next morning, when Namie had finally drifted to sleep, struggling to breathe, sweat on his forehead. He didn't understand why he imagined the fine curve of the monster’s shoulders, the fullness of his lips, but it sent sickness down his spine and a warmth through his groin that he didn't understand. He wasn’t scared of Shizuo,  _ he wasn’t.  _ He didn't sleep for the rest of the night and tried to push the desire for a cigarette from his mind, instead focusing on Namie’s ugly sleeping face to keep himself busy. 

 

-0- 

 

Shizuo got home at around three in the morning, stinking drunk. Simon and Dennis invited him to stay after hours and he could always trust the Russians to bring out the vodka. Well, after Simon socked him hard enough to blacken his eye for causing a ruckus in his restaurant and  _ ‘scaring a customer half to death’. _ He had scoffed at that, but not tried to hit him back, simply stating  _ ‘that fleabag ain't afraid of me’ _ . When he finally stumbled into his flat, his stomach was rolling, sickened by the mixture of anxiety and alcohol. He forced himself to strip off his shirt and he hastily headed into the bathroom, desperate to get rid of the nausea. With a violent lurch, he dropped to his knees and stuck his head over the toilet, torso rolling in discomfort as vomit forced its way out of his mouth. The man heaved until there was nothing but acrid, yellow bile dripping from between his lips and his stomach wasn’t protesting so violently, then he flushed the toilet, collapsed against the shower door and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

“Ugh, fuck,” he sighed, blinking rapidly at the light above his head. 

 

The room was spinning around him still but far less quickly than before. It was idiotic to get this hammered but he didn’t have work for the next couple of days and seeing Izaya had put him in a bad mood.  _ Izaya.  _ His thoughts lingered on the dark-haired man - why had he acted like that? Whimpering like he was afraid, the flea was never afraid. Shizuo pushed himself unsteadily off the floor and lumbered across the hall into his bedroom, where he fell face-first into the covers. He hummed happily and rolled beneath the duvet - it was so warm compared to the wintry air outside. After a moment of enjoying the warmth, he pushed his trousers off and out onto the floor so that he remained in his boxers. Much to his pleasure, he noticed that he had left a bottle of water on the bedside table, seemingly sober-Shizuo had predicted he might come home drunk that night. He gulped the liquid back as if he were dying of thirst, then set it back on the nightstand and collapsed into the pillows.

 

“Izaya,” he mumbled against the sheets. “Stupid flea.”

 

In his drunk state, he admitted that he was happy to see the other man alive and in somewhat decent shape. That woman said he couldn’t walk properly, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Guilt washed over him and he raised a hand to cover his eyes. He’d really lost it during that fight, he remembered very little detail. The things that stuck with him were the feeling of bone crunching under his hands, the smell of blood and smoke, the awful sound of Izaya screaming. The shrieks had been so guttural, the kind that one might hear from an animal in the throes of death. He didn’t consider the result of that fight to be a victory, it simply made it more obvious what an abomination he was. And now that he had seen Izaya, that fact was clear as day. 

 

Wasn’t Izaya meant to be his match? Wasn’t he meant to be unafraid and uncaring? The flea was smug and callous and unstoppable. Shizuo grunted and hugged his spare pillow close to his chest. They were meant to hate one another to the ends of the Earth, Izaya was  _ not  _ allowed to be afraid of him. He just wanted things to go back to normal, he just wanted to carry on despising the informant so that he would not forget all the terrible things he had done. Giving into temptation had been the wrong thing to do, even in the present he couldn’t get the image of Izaya, the sounds he’d made, the feeling of him, out of his mind. He had to admit that he preferred the man’s reactions  during the time they had slept together far more than the ones during their fight. 

 

Mindlessly, he traced the outline of the lean muscle on his forearm, stroking gently enough that it felt similar to the featherlight touches in his head. He wanted to see Izaya again, he thought, he wanted to apologise. Startled by the sudden desire for tenderness, the man sat upright and reached for his phone. Blearily, he typed out a message to Celty.

 

Shizuo 

_ CeltY u awakoe? _

 

Celty 

_ Yes, just finishing a job. Are you drunk? _

 

Shizuo

_ Yh, sorry. I need 2 talk. Saw Izaya  _

 

Celty

_ What happened? Are you okay? _

 

Shizuo

_ Yh im gd. Flea freakd out. He lkd scared. His legs r fucked. Is it weiird 2 b worried? _

 

Celty

_ He was scared? Weird. He called me for a job tomorrow evening.  _

 

The redhead shot upright in bed and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

Shizuo 

_ Ur seein him? Come c me after, I wanna know how he is _

 

Celty

_ Sure. Might be late though? _

 

Shizuo 

_ Dnt care, got 2 days off work.  _

 

Celty

_ Okay. See you tomorrow. Don’t forget to drink some water before you sleep, you drunkard! _

 

-0- 

 

Celty arrived at around seven the next evening. Namie greeted the Dullahan at the door and let her enter, pointing her in the direction of the sofa where Izaya was sprawled out. He raised a hand in greeting and gave her an out of place, weary smile. 

 

“Good evening, Courier!” he chirped. “Please forgive my rudeness in not standing up.”

 

The headless woman shook her hands and sat down opposite him.  _ It’s no problem.  _

 

The air was tense for a moment as she stared at him. Shizuo had told her there was something wrong with his legs, but what? He looked weak but that was unsurprisingly given the state of him the last time she saw him - quite frankly she was shocked he was alive. His arms were limp at his sides and his legs stretched out in front of him on the sofa. She wondered if the stab wound she had stemmed with shadow left a scar. 

 

“Thank you for coming alone,” Izaya said, nodding. He reached for his cup of tea and raised it to his lips. 

 

Celty tilted her head slightly.  _ Of course. Why wouldn’t I come alone? _

 

“Shinra is awfully clingy. He’s been messaging me non-stop since news of my arrival spread. I’m not quite ready to handle his boisterous nature just yet,” he replied, blankly. She didn’t like the hollow shadows under his eyes. “Plus, you’re still friends with the monster, aren’t you?”

 

_ Shizuo isn’t a monster,  _ she typed, shoulders tensing. 

 

“Well, I do hope you don't take it personally if I beg to differ,” he said, with a nasty smile. 

 

Celty nodded and folded her arms across her chest. At least that awful smirk was still present, it indicated Izaya hadn't completely lost himself after the fight.  _ So what can I do for you, Izaya?  _

 

“The usual,” he answered, placing his tea in his lap. She noted the way his fingers shook slightly and the sound of his arms snapping rang loudly in her mind. “I need you to deliver some information to Mr Dougen Awakusu. Simple, easy-peasy.”

 

_ You’re back to work? _

 

Izaya’s eye twitched in irritation. “Of course, I never stopped. There’s always information to be bought and sold. Something as minor as a broken back and a little internal bleeding won’t hold me back.”

 

Celty shook her helmet.  _ You should have taken time to recover before throwing yourself back into this kind of life.  _

 

“No rest for the wicked, my dear Dullahan,” he chuckled, staring into her visor. His smile dropped into a frown. “I took enough time to regain the use of my arms and make my legs work, although I will admit they’re not quite what they used to be.”

 

_ I’m sorry to hear that.  _

 

“Lying is a sin,” he said. He placed the teacup back on the coffee table. “But I appreciate the false pretense of care, nonetheless.”

 

Celty didn’t move for a moment, then slowly typed out another message.  _ I’m not lying. I wouldn’t have helped you if I didn’t care.  _

 

Izaya laughed. “You’re getting more and more human, you know that? I find it amusing that you took the time to help me that day. I wanted to ask why?”

 

The Dullahan seemed to hesitate, but eventually she answered.  _ I didn’t want blood on my hands.  _

 

“You mean Shizuo’s hands, right?” he snapped, a little too forcefully. Celty looked up at him and saw that his expression was strained. He shook his head and the unpleasant smirk returned. “Never mind, it looks like you were successful. Well done.”

 

The man threw a manilla envelope toward her, which she caught deftly. 

 

“You remember where the Awakusu-Kai are based, right?” he asked, raising a brow. Celty nodded and stood, tucking the envelope under her arm. “Good. I also want you to take Namie with you.”

 

“What, why?” his secretary called, from her desk across the room.

 

Izaya smiled at Namie and Celty was surprised to see the genuine amusement on his face. “Mika Harima is out of the city for a week visiting her Mother. I thought I would ask Celty to drop you to Seiji’s so you could spend Christmas with your  _ beloved  _ family.”

 

The usually-surly woman’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?”

 

“Call it a thank you for, y’know, playing nurse,” he said, waving a hand carelessly. “I need some time away from you anyway.”

 

“I’d say you’re welcome but I went way past the line of duty for you. I deserve more, if anything” she snorted, standing up from her office chair. “Will you be okay?”

 

Izaya scoffed. “It’s just a week, I’ll be fine.”

 

Namie smiled and exited the room swiftly, presumably to pack her bag. Celty looked back at Izaya, who was staring dreamily into space. 

 

_ That was kind - too kind. What happened to you? _

 

Izaya chuckled under his breath and reached across the sofa to get hold of his walking stick. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and Celty almost felt sorry for the look of pain that crossed his face. 

 

“Maybe my skull f-fractured into my brain,” he snickered, voice straining as he made his way across the room toward his desk. Celty followed a short distance behind him. She held back from helping him despite his obvious discomfort for fear it would anger him. Izaya was a proud man. He lowered himself into his office chair with a groan and took in a few deep breaths. 

 

_ Are you okay?  _ Celty asked. 

 

“I have good days and bad days - today happens to be a bad day,” he answered, rubbing his thumbs over the muscles in his thighs. “Being savaged by a monster will do that to you.”

 

_ Shizuo said he saw you yesterday,  _ she commented. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was wise to broach the topic of Shizuo with him, but as Izaya had already mentioned him curiosity won over caution.  _ He said you seemed panicked, he was worried about you.  _

 

Izaya’s playful stare hardened. “Sh-Shizu-chan doesn’t give a shit about m-my well-being. I thought that would be obvious f-from the state of m-my body.”

 

The Dullahan shook her helmet. Izaya’s stutter was growing worse, she noticed, and from the way his muscles tensed he seemed to be growing stressed. She didn’t want to upset him, but she wouldn’t let her friend be insulted.  _ He doesn’t lie about things like that.  _

 

“Oh r-really? What do you kn-know?” he replied, his voice a low, harsh hiss. He clenched the arm of his office chair tightly between his fingers, hard enough to pale his knuckles. 

 

_ I know that he’s sorry for what happened.  _

 

“You th-think so?” he said, snidely. “Do you th-think I d-deserved all he th-threw at me?”

 

Celty paused, her fingers still over the screen of her PDA. Slowly, she turned the machine toward him.  _ Yes, I do. You tried to kill him that day. You’ve spent such a long time trying to ruin his life.  _

 

Izaya stared at her blankly, his lips set in a hard line. “You seem to forget he was the one who rejected the very idea of me on first sight. Or did he not tell you that? Perhaps you should ask Shinra. He likes rejecting me.”

 

Celty tilted her helmet, confused.  _ What-  _

 

“Ready!” came Namie’s voice from the hallway. “Come on, come on, I want to see my Seiji!”

 

Izaya smirked in the direction of the other woman and raised a hand in farewell. “Have fun, Namie. I’ll see you soon, Courier. Please message me when the information has been delivered safely.”

 

_ Sure.  _

 

“Always a pleasure,” he replied, his smile turning vicious. 

 

The headless woman seemed to hesitate before turning away from him. She strode down the hall and out into the stairwell, Namie trailing behind her. It took around an hour upon leaving Shinjuku to complete her given tasks. She dropped Namie at her brother’s house and tried to ignore the high-pitched squeals the woman emitted as she walked up the driveway. The Awakusu-Kai were as forcefully polite as ever, thanking her profusely for the information before she left. Sometimes she wondered if her job was a bad thing, if she was delivering a death sentence for some unwitting snitch, but she reasoned that she had no room to act with morality. Not when she was in love with a mad doctor, her best friend could crush metal with his fist and she herself was a harbinger of death. This city was brimming with badness. Finally, she pulled up outside Shizuo’s home and moved to the front door. 

 

“Celty,” the man greeted, opening the door. He gave her an exhausted smile. “Come in.”

 

_ How’s the head?  _ Celty joked, shoulders shaking in laughter. Shizuo looked awful, obviously hungover. 

 

“Shit,” he grumbled, standing aside to let her in. “How’s yours?”

 

_ Oh, burn.  _ Celty replied, throwing herself down onto the sofa. The man had obviously tried to repair the coffee table he splintered the other night, for it was now bound up with thick bands of gaffa tape. If she had eyes, she would have rolled them.  _ Did you eat?  _

 

“Yes, Mum,” he snorted, sitting next to her. “Then I threw it up again.”

 

_ You must stop trying to out-drink the Russians.  _

 

“Amen to that,” Shizuo retorted. He fell silent for a moment and his expression darkened. “So, how was the flea?”

 

Celty ran a hand over her helmet before typing a response.  _ Irritating, sarcastic, unpleasant - the usual.  _

 

“Classic,” he commented. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t even break into a small smile. “Aside from that, how was he uh - physically?” 

 

_ Um. Hard to say. He’s walking with a cane but it’s obvious he can’t walk very far. His legs started shaking after a few steps. He said he was having a ‘bad day’ and he looked like he was in pain when he tried to move. I almost felt sorry for him.  _

 

“Yeah, he did look a bit pathetic,” Shizuo replied, nodding. He sighed deeply and smoothed a hand over his mouth before dropping it back to his lap. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

 

Celty placed a hand on his arm reassuringly.  _ No. He tried to kill you, he can’t expect you to sit there and do nothing. I said the same thing to Izaya.  _

 

“You did?”

 

_ Yeah. He asked me if I thought he deserved it. So I said yes.  _

 

Shizuo’s eyes widened. “Jeez, even I think that’s a bit cold and I was the one who beat him up. I dunno if ‘an eye for an eye’ really works.”

 

_ Maybe not. But I care a lot about you and it has been hard to watch him consistently ruin your life for no other reason than he thinks-  _ she paused her typing and deleted the next portion of the sentence.  _ Actually, there was something he said to me that I was going to ask you about.  _

 

“Yeah?”

 

_ He said you liked rejecting him.  _

 

Shizuo felt a wave of nausea hit him and he wasn’t certain it was the hangover. 

 

_ Something about rejecting him the first time you met him? He said to ask Shinra about it too.  _

 

“Oh, that,” he sighed, frowning. “Yeah, when I first saw him I tried to punch him. I was in a fight with all these guys and Izaya just started applauding, so I swung at him.”

 

_ I remember that day! You got hit by a truck, right?  _

 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 

Celty’s shoulders moved as if she were chuckling.  _ I had to convince you to drop our front door before you threw it at him.  _

 

“Hah, yeah. Sorry about that,” he laughed, sheepishly. 

 

_ Why did you try and punch him?  _

 

Shizuo shrugged. “I was convinced he set those guys on me. No proof ‘a that, of course.”

 

Celty paused before typing her reply.  _ Hmm. Still, you throwing the first punch is no good reason to- _

 

“I always throw the first punch,” he interrupted, clenching his fist. “Every fight we get into is because of me. I see him, I get pissed off, I try and hit him. It’s my fault I can’t just let things go and calm down. I can’t keep ahold of this fucking temper.”

 

The only things Izaya ever instigated were a kisses and death wishes, he thought. The woman placed a gloved hand over his fist until he relaxed slightly and his fingers loosened. 

 

_ Perhaps both of you share the blame for what happened, Shizuo. But it doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re a good person who did a bad thing. Izaya is a bad person who has done so many awful things.  _

 

“He’s-” he paused, stopping himself before he spilled his guts too freely. Shizuo didn’t like keeping things secret from Celty, but he knew she wouldn’t react well to hearing about his  _ other  _ feelings about Izaya. “Thanks.”

 

_ I think you should try and forget about him. You didn’t kill him, so that guilt can be absolved. If you see him, which I doubt you will, try and ignore him.  _

 

“You doubt I will?” he asked, furrowing his brow. 

 

Celty nodded.  _ Well yeah, clearly he’s terrified of you. When I said your name he started stammering, it was bizarre seeing Izaya like that.  _

 

“Stammering?” he repeated, thinking back to the night before. “That’s why he was talkin’ funny.”

 

_ It got worse when he got stressed out,  _ she commented, standing up from the sofa.  _ Anyway, I’ve got to head home. Shinra would skin you if I stayed here again.  _

 

“Yeah, sure,” he chuckled, smiling. He stood and followed her to the door. “What was the job he gave you anyway?”

 

Celty twisted the doorknob but didn’t fully open it to avoid letting the cold air into Shizuo’s house.  _ Oh, he wanted me to deliver some information to Shiki and that lot. Business as usual. Then he made me drop his weird secretary at her brother’s house. _

 

“Namie fucking terrifies me,” Shizuo replied, shuddering. 

 

_ You and me both. I bet Izaya will be glad to be on his own for the week!  _ Celty laughed, as she headed out into the night. 

 

Shizuo let the door swing shut and he stared blankly at the wood, her last words sinking in. 

 

“Alone for the week,” he repeated, out loud. Without Namie Yagiri around, perhaps he’d be able to speak with the other man. God knows he had a lot to say. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Desperate measures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thank you for reading, reviewing and kudos-ing!

_“Are you going to sit in bed moping for the rest of your life?”_

 

_“I don’t see why n-not.”_

 

_Namie grimaced and folded her arms across her chest. It had been over a month since she started badgering Izaya to start physical therapy but the stubborn fool was flat out refusing. He had taken to remaining in bed, typing feverishly on his laptop, day after day._

 

_“You need to start soon or you’ll be lessening the chance of recovery,” she commented, irritation obvious in her tone._

 

_“Things without all r-remedy should be without r-regard: what's done is done.”_

 

_Namie groaned and hit the side of his arm with her magazine. “Quoting Shakespeare won’t distract me forever, asshole.”_

 

 _“_ _‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it’._ _Ah, I know your f-fondness for the Bard, N-Namie,” he chuckled, tapping the enter key on his laptop furiously. “I’ve got another couple of m-months at least.”_

 

_The woman sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. “Why are you stalling, Izaya? Don’t you want the best chance of recovery?”_

 

_“I don’t see the p-p-point,” he retorted, smile falling into a frown. He raised both his hands to his head and rubbed his temples softly. “Call it p-penance, I suppose.”_

 

_“Penance?” she repeated, inclining her head. Izaya seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if uncertain on whether to share his thoughts with her. Eventually, he closed the lid of his laptop and hung his head so that he didn’t have to look at her._

 

_“Yes, p-penance. Sh-Shiizu-chan was human after all. I spent a long t-time trying to ruin his life because I was angry that a m-monster was so loved,” he said, unhappily. “When I w-wasn’t.”_

 

_Namie observed him silently for a second then scoffed, the derision grating the back of her throat. Izaya peered up at her and was surprised to see a nasty smile on her face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”_

 

_“N-no,” he replied, confused._

 

_“Don’t be so pathetic,” Namie snapped, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “Heiwajima is the most monstrous piece of work to walk this Earth - and I’m including you in that mix. He nearly tore you to pieces with his bare hands and you’re just going to accept that? You idiot!”_

 

_Izaya’s eyes widened when his secretary stood and crossed the room so that she could stand beside his bed. She prodded her hand viciously into his chest._

 

_“Ow!”_

 

_“You do NOT get to give up,” she hissed, angrily. “I bothered to sew you back together so you are not allowed to sit here and wallow in all this bullshit. Shizuo didn’t ask you to treat this as punishment, did he? This crap has all been formulated in your own head. If you have to, consider what has already passed as your damn penance to him! In my opinion he doesn’t deserve it anyway.”_

 

_“Ow! Ow!”_

 

_Namie clenched her fingers around his collar and dragged him up, making him cry out in pain. “Starting tomorrow, you are getting out of bed or so help me, Izaya, I will sever your spinal cord entirely.”_

 

_“N-nasty.”_

 

_She narrowed her eyes at him. “Out, damned spot.”_

 

_The woman dropped him back against the pillows and stormed out of the room with a grunt of irritation. Izaya stared at the closed door with wide eyes. Namie was terrifying at times - the role of Lady Macbeth would suit her, he thought, with a smile. Wearily, he closed his eyes. Perhaps she was right, perhaps it would do no good to accept his current state rather than attempt to improve it. He had made a mistake when it came to Shizuo - at first he had been so convinced the man was nothing more than a monster and he despised him for being so loved despite his lack of humanity. But after the time Izaya spent alone with him in his apartment, his opinion had been so close to changing. He saw glimmers of consideration, humility, of remorse and pleasure - he saw all the signs of humanity. And the moment he was rejected he knew it for certain - Shizuo was a human in monster’s clothing, not the other way around as he’d always thought. The rejection made it clear, all of humanity was going to turn him away, even Shizuo. He remembered the pain in the other man’s eyes when Vorona shoved a knife into his side, the sudden clarity that dissipated his blind fury - it was as if seeing someone else harm Izaya disturbed him. He hated that look. It was sad and slightly possessive and so fucking human that it made him want to be sick. How could he possibly have misjudged the beast so badly?_

 

_Never before had Izaya felt more alien, more separate to a race he adored but would never be a part of. It was time to accept it. He leaned heavily into the pillows and let his head roll onto his shoulder. None of that mattered anymore, what’s done is done. Dwelling on monsters and humans was useless - the only thing he could think about now was getting back to work, to the job he loved more than anything, to his beloved humans. Even if he couldn’t be a part of the crowd, he was happy to cause chaos and observe. He would just have to force all thoughts and feelings toward the beast out of his head, as hard as that might be. A tired smile crossed his lips. Let Namie have her way, he thought. It would be good to get back on his feet, it would be much easier for business and he wanted to get back outside. The man swallowed and opened his eyes as pain curled up his spine. Yes, it would be good to get started. He had surely been punished enough._

 

-0-

  


He had told two people where he was going and that was only due to chance. On his way through Ikebukuro station, he’d bumped into some familiar faces, faces he hadn’t seen in a long time.

 

“Shizuo!” a voice called from across the crowd.

 

The redhead turned and lowered the cigarette from his mouth. “Huh?”

 

He looked down to see two pairs of matching brown eyes blinking up at him. “Hi Shizuo!”

 

“Mairu, Kururi, how you doing?” he greeted, warmly. The man had always had a soft spot for the Orihara twins, sometimes he couldn’t believe they were related to Izaya.

 

“All good, all good!” Mairu chirped. Her sister nodded silently in agreement. “What’re you up to this evening?”

 

Shizuo hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to see your brother.”

 

“Oooh,” Mairu squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Exciting.”

 

“Send him our most unpleasant wishes,” Kururi murmured.  

 

“Heh, of course,” he chuckled. The sound of a tannoy blared loudly over the buzz of the crowd. “I gotta go catch the train. See you guys around.”

 

“Bye Shizuo!” they both called in unison.

 

The man gave them a weary smile and crushed his cigarette butt beneath his shoe. He paused for a moment and a frown worked its way onto his face. “If something happens to your brother, I want you to send the police straight to my house, okay?”

 

Kururi tilted her head to one side. “Are you planning on killing Izaya tonight?”

 

“Ooh! If you do, send us some pictures please!” Mairu laughed.

 

Shizuo smirked and shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I just wanna talk to him but you know how angry he makes me, so if- if something does happen-”

 

“We understand,” they replied.

 

The man nodded and gave them a final wave before running to the train. It wasn’t far to Shinjuku, he even remembered the route to Izaya’s house. Shizuo let out a puff of smoke and pulled the collar of his winter jacket further around his face. He looked up at the foggy evening sky and shivered, due to a mixture of the cold air and nerves. This was a stupid idea, he thought, a really stupid idea. He passed the lit-up sign that read ‘SHINJUKU STATION’ and hastened toward a coffee shop on the corner. What was his end goal here - apologise? Beat him up? Maybe force Izaya to apologise for trying to kill him? He felt his face flush. Kiss him?

 

No, definitely not. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This visit was to check Izaya was okay and to settle the dust between them. Then they could just go back to their lives, Shizuo thought. And perhaps he could rid himself of the guilty weight on his shoulders.

 

“Try not to kill him,” he sighed to himself, as Izaya’s apartment block came into view.

 

-0-

 

_"What do I want to do?" Shizuo repeated, coolly._

 

_He reached out and placed one hand beside Izaya’s head, leaning in close to his face. The other hand settled back on his hip and began to slide upward, beneath his thin t-shirt. Izaya let out a strangled cry when his cold hand clamped over his pectoral and his nails scratched his skin. The informant’s hips rolled against the beast as he pushed his body harder into his hand. Shizuo raised a brow and licked his bottom lip. "I'm not sure you would like what I want to do to you."_

 

_"And what would that be?" Izaya asked, trying to keep his breathing even as his thumb flicked over his nipple._

 

_Shizuo hummed gently as he pressed himself flush against his body, moving his knee between his legs so that his thigh ground into his crotch. The monster bit into his neck with his sharp canines and chuckled when he heard the smaller man groan softly._

 

_"Let's just say I don't always play gentle," he murmured, kissing a thick vein on his throat. "I wouldn't want to hurt you, Flea."_

 

_Izaya smiled to himself. “I don’t think you could hurt me any more than you already have.”_

 

_He felt the other man stiffen in discomfort. Confidence surged through him - there was no concrete reason this shouldn't happen. The voice telling him to be reasonable was silenced by the other telling him to rip his clothes off and fuck him into the ground. Izaya reached up and placed his hand over Shizuo’s, though on the outside of his shirt. Slowly, he pressed down on the other man’s fingers, causing his nails to dig harder into the soft skin of his chest. Izaya groaned in pain but an aroused flush spread over his cheeks and soon he began to pant. Shizuo watched him, eyes wide with surprise._

 

_"Don't make assumptions, beast. I'm tougher than I look," he moaned. “I survived our last round, didn’t I?”_

 

_Unable to hold back any longer, he pulled Shizuo’s collar toward him with his free hand and crashed his lips against his. Shizuo growled under his breath, his hands moved, one wound around Izaya’s waist and settled at the small of his back whilst the other snuck across his collarbone and his fingers gripped his throat firmly. He moved his knee up and smirked into the kiss when he heard him moan at the new pressure._

 

_“Come for me-”_

 

Izaya jerked awake too fast, the last spoken words of the dream ringing loudly in his ears. He fell back against his desk chair and the back of his head smacked into the metal frame.

 

“Fuck!” he cursed, rubbing his skull irritably.

 

He let out an aggravated sigh and pressed his fingers into his temples, drawing small circles into the tight muscles to try and relax them. Another dream - how absurd! That was the third one this week. Izaya let his head fall onto the open book on his desk, pressing his cheek into the print, and let out a low groan. This was ridiculous, dreaming about that monster, a man who made him freeze in fear, a man who beat him half to death in the street, a man who made it quite clear he didn’t want him.

 

“Kill me,” he muttered, raising his head.

 

The clock on the wall struck seven o’clock. Prior to falling asleep, he had been trying to read a book on French philosophy but the dream-like atmosphere of the prose had sent him straight into slumber. Sleep was rare for him these days, there was no set pattern to when he might get rest, he just had to sleep when he was able, day or night. He sighed and leaned against his palm, turning the pages of the book mindlessly between his fingers. What was going on, he thought, he used to love absorbing himself in rich texts such as these. Izaya was a man who prided himself on his intelligence and the ability to ingest and retain a lot of information. Earlier that night, he had been trying to work on new cases and came across a name he didn’t recognise at first. After a moment or two, he realised it was an acquaintance he had known for years.  At that moment, panic alighted in his mind and every word on the page looked foreign to him. Sentences blurred into streams of running ink that he couldn’t fathom, his mind grew frustrated and he’d thrown the neatly stapled file onto the floor with an exasperated cry. Switching to fiction seemingly didn’t help either. His eye was twitching, he could feel it. This stress had to be rectified, he thought, scowling darkly. The lack of sleep, the mood-swings, the reliance on Namie, it had to end or he would never be able to think straight. And in his line of work that was unacceptable - he could get himself killed if he wasn’t precise and detailed.

 

_Thinking about the monster had to end._

 

Izaya shivered at the memory of his drea- _nightmare,_ slumping back into the desk chair with a deep sigh. Most of the time thinking about the monster just made him feel drained, lifeless, but the dreams were a peculiar exception. He tilted the chair back and span around. From this position he could see outside, through the enormous window. It was dark, almost pitch black outside. Strange, he couldn’t remember a time today when there had been light - dawn and dusk had never appeared, it was just the same dull darkness that hung over the landscape. He wasn’t sure if that was due to his bizarre sleeping pattern, or the season. Of course. It was the twenty-second today, it must be the Winter Solstice. Shortest day, longest night. The last time he had witnessed this with another person had been with Shinra. They had taken a trip together to watch the dusk from the countryside and his friend spent the majority of the evening spouting myths and legends about random pieces of history. Izaya had been too kind to tell him he had heard all of his stories before.

 

With another sigh, he tipped his chair forward and swung himself up onto his feet so that he could open the window. The cold hit his face immediately, sending his teeth chattering in his head. The view before him was still covered in an unusual thick, white smog that skewered most of the city from clear sight. The only thing Izaya found himself comforted by was the sky - a velvet black blanket pin-pricked with glittering stars. It had a strange, shimmering sheen to it, and it cast a ghostly pale light across the top of the skyscrapers. From his apartment, he could see various outlines in the darkness, vast concrete giants just visible in the glow. It was abnormally quiet, the only sounds were the occasional rustling of leaves, or gentle hum of the wind. It would have been eerie, had he not been so relieved to be alone and safe in the wilderness of the city. He turned away from the scene, pulling the window shut behind him to keep the cold out.

 

A soft knock sounded at the door, which sent a sudden spike of curiosity through him. He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, was he? Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet and started to move across the sitting room to the front door. His legs were feeling better than the previous couple of days as he had taken the time to stretch and slowly  walk up and down his staircase a few times but they were still stiff. He blamed the beast for that entirely, of course, if he hadn't fallen he might not be aching so much.

 

“One second!” he called, propping his stick under his arm as he unlocked the door. He pushed down on the doorknob and force his usual smile onto his face. “Who do I have the pleasure of-”

 

“Evening, flea,” Shizuo greeted, quietly.

 

Izaya felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head. He felt a familiar tremor of panic work down his damaged spine. Immediately, he slammed his hand on the door, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm, but it was caught by the monster before it could close. Shizuo’s hand pressed firmly against the wood but didn't open it any further.

 

“Can I come in? I need t’talk to you,” he said, never moving his gaze from Izaya’s face.

 

The informant felt his heart pound and his head began to spin as if he had just gained concussion. He stepped back, hand falling away from the doorknob and gulped. His throat was so dry he almost choked on his own tongue.

 

“Sh-Shi-Shi-” he stammered.

 

The redhead stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him. “Calm down, Izaya. I ain't gonna do anything to you.”

 

“Liar,” he replied, hoarsely.

 

The smaller man turned away from the other and started to walk hastily to the sideboard next to the television in the sitting room. Shizuo followed cautiously, not wanting to frighten the man more than he obviously already had, until he saw something shiny and metal appear from the drawer Izaya was reaching into.

 

“Put that the fuck down!” he growled, dashing across the room. The informant turned and pointed the barrel of the gun in his hand at the approaching monster but he was shaking too violently to aim properly. A bullet shot into the wall behind Shizuo, a long way off to the side.

 

“G-get back,” Izaya panted, searching for a way to escape.

 

Shizuo let out an aggravated sigh and grabbed hold of the other man’s shoulder before he could flee. He lifted him easily off the ground and wrenched the gun out of his hand, letting the weapon fall onto the floor where he swiftly kicked it under the sideboard out of sight. Izaya shrieked and kicked his legs as best he could, until one of his heels collided with the other’s knee. Shizuo grunted and threw the informant down onto the sofa, making sure the movement wasn't overly rough. The smaller man fell headfirst into the pile of pillows in the corner of the couch and twisted uncomfortably onto his back so he could face Shizuo, who was looming above him with his arms on the back of the sofa, effectively caging him in.

 

“Stop fighting,” Shizuo said, calmly. “I'm not gonna-”

 

Despite the sheer terror he felt, Izaya still managed to spit in the redhead’s face. “F-fuck you!”

 

The larger man glared at him stonily, then raised his hand to wipe the saliva off his cheek. Izaya was convinced the man was going to punch him, but eventually he let out a sigh and muttered. “Flea, calm down. I'm not here to throw fists, ‘Kay? I just wanna talk.”

 

Shizuo moved back and sat down in the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. The informant wasn't looking at him, he was staring intensely at the ceiling and from the way he clutched his chest, it looked like he was trying to calm his breathing.

 

“Get out,” he ordered, when he felt relatively more normal.

 

“No.”

 

“Y-you have n-no right t-to be h- hey! No smoking!” he hissed, pointing a finger at the other man, who was holding an open lighter up to the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

 

Shizuo rolled his eyes and placed the smoking equipment back in his pocket. He frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “Why the fuck do you have a gun?”

 

“Why do you think?” Izaya snapped, pointedly. The redhead dropped his gaze to the floor, looking rather perturbed by the answer he received. “I can’t r-run away anymore, so I’ve got to be able to protect m-myself.”

 

“Clearly you can’t even do that,” Shizuo retorted. He instantly regretted the quip when he saw Izaya’s eyes darken. In the past, the informant would have had an equally scathing remark to hand but now he just sat there, quiet and sullen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

“Why are y-you here, Sh-Shizu-chan?” he asked, wearily. “Have you come to finish me off?”

 

“No, of course not, I-”

 

“Because if you are, I’d appreciate if you did it quickly,” Izaya continued, looking up at the ceiling. “Last time had more than enough violence, don’t you think?”

 

“I said I’m-”

 

The informant sighed and interrupted him again. “So if you could just break my neck, or better yet shoot me through the head, that would be-”

 

“Izaya!” Shizuo snapped, angrily. The other man turned his head to look at him, eyes wide with fright at the sudden shout. “I’m not here to kill you or hurt you, okay? Like I said, I just want to talk to you.”

 

“What could you p-possibly have to say to me?” Izaya replied, scowling. He sat upright, feeling a little calmer than before, and dropped his hands to his lap. The flick-knife he always carried was still in his pocket and the cold weight against his leg was reassuring. “Are you here to gloat about w-winning? Because far be it from m-me to offer my congratulations.”

 

“I’m not here to gloat,” the larger man responded, unhappily. He didn’t like the defeated look on Izaya’s face but he was relieved to see that the fire in his eyes still burned intensely. “I came to apologise for hurting you.”

 

There was silence for a moment as they stared at one another, then Izaya let out a sigh and hung his head.

 

“What do you want - forgiveness?” he asked, glancing back up at Shizuo. He could see _please_ written all over his face and it made him laugh bitterly. “You’re so human it m-makes me sick. Why c-couldn’t you have stayed as a monster? It would have made hating you so m-much easier.”

 

“You don’t hate me?” the redhead asked, furrowing his brows.

 

“Haven’t I always said that I love all humans?” Izaya answered, pursing his lips.

 

“So what, you l-”

 

“I don’t feel anything toward y-you, Shizu-chan,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You’re an anomaly.”

 

The redhead unfolded his arms and let his hands rest on his knees. Izaya wasn’t looking at him anymore, he was simply staring into space, clearly lost in thought. Shizuo still didn’t understand what his own intentions were and the silence was starting to make him feel uncomfortable.

 

“I want you to forgive me Izaya,” he mumbled. “I am sorry for losin’ it. It was only when you were gone that I realised I didn’t want you dead.”

 

“No, I’m quite alive,” Izaya said, anger seeping out of his tone. “You don’t have to worry about any b-blood on your hands, beast.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Shizuo replied. He was beginning to feel a little desperate - why was it so hard to sort his own thoughts out into something coherent? With Izaya sat there burning a hole through him with his glare it was difficult to think straight. “You tried to fucking kill me, flea. And I was already so pissed off because of - of everything, that I just saw red. But I don’t want you dead, I never wanted that.”

 

“You expect me to b-believe that bullshit?” he retorted, clenching his fists. Unseen, he slipped the knife from his pocket and held it tightly in his hand. “You have been trying to kill m-me ever since we met.”

 

“Things have changed.”

 

Izaya scoffed loudly. “I thought you didn’t want things to change?”

 

Shizuo winced slightly, recalling his own words that day in the alley. “I was wrong.”

 

“Are you f-f-finished?” the informant snarled. “Y-you’ve said your apology, leave.”

 

“But-”

 

He was cut off when a slight pain shot through his shoulder. When he looked down he saw a familiar flick-knife protruding from his chest. Blood was starting to blossom through his shirt. He looked back up to see Izaya staring at him furiously, one arm outstretched and his hand open. Shizuo stood up swiftly and strode across the short distance so that he could grab ahold of Izaya’s collar and pull him off the sofa onto his feet. With his free hand he wrenched the flick-knife out of his chest and let it clatter to the floor. The informant was still looking at him, though he saw none of the fear from before. Now there was only rage.

 

“You’re pushin’ your luck, flea,” Shizuo growled, jerking the man closer. Izaya spat at him again and he felt a surge of anger rise in him.

 

“I hope you bleed to death, Shizu-ch-”

 

The informant was cut off when Shizuo pulled him in and roughly pressed his lips against his own. Izaya’s eyes remained open and wide as the redhead bruised his mouth with the kiss, heading turning this way and that. The larger man seemed frantic, almost as if he was imploring Izaya to return his actions. Shizuo groaned into his mouth and he felt his stomach turn uneasily. He raised his hands to push against the other man’s chest but he was immoveable. Izaya’s right hand was sticky with the blood pouring from the stab wound, a wound Shizuo barely seemed to feel. He grew alarmed when the man laced his free hand into the back of his hair and twisted the brunette locks gently between his fingers. Izaya squealed a muffled noise of irritation into the mouth crushing over his but still Shizuo didn’t move, he just slipped his tongue between the informant’s open lips. Angered by this sudden assault, Izaya dug his fingers roughly into the stab wound, hard enough that Shizuo finally pulled back. His golden eyes were clouded with lust and his lips still wet with the other man’s saliva.

 

“Get the f-fuck off me,” Izaya hissed, twisting a finger into the gash. Shizuo grunted in pain and dropped his collar, allowing him to fall softly back down onto the couch.

 

“That hurt,” he commented, placing a palm over the wound. He looked down at the informant, who was glaring back. There was a slight flush across his cheeks and his mouth was swollen from the force of the kiss. Fuck, he thought, how he wanted to feel that mouth again. When he moved forward, Izaya shuffled back on the sofa and held up his hands.

 

“Leave, n-now,” he ordered, voice wavering slightly. The majority of him was enraged by the beast’s actions, but there was a small part of him that was worried. Worried about what Shizuo could do if he didn’t listen. Worried about the small voice telling him how much he wanted to be kissed again. “Get the f-fuck out of my house.”

 

Shizuo paused, sliding his hands into his pockets. He observed Izaya closely for a moment, then turned his head and sighed. It wouldn’t be fair to try and kiss him again, not if the other man didn’t want him to, and by the angered look on his face the redhead could tell that he didn’t.

 

“If that’s what you want,” he nodded. “I’ll go.”

 

Izaya had no idea what he wanted, so he crossed his arms and scowled unpleasantly. “Good.”

 

“But I’ll be back.”

 

“What?” he snapped, turning his body to watch Shizuo as he retreated toward the front door. “What the hell do you m-mean?”

 

The beast turned back to look at him, stilling his hand on the doorknob, and gave him a small smile. “I want you to forgive me. I’m going to keep coming back until that happens.”

 

Izaya stared at the door as it swung shut with wide eyes. Shizuo was already out of the building by the time he let out an angry growl and held his head in his hands. Why the hell did he want forgiveness? There was no way, no way that was ever going to happen.

 

“Fucking m-monster.”

  
  
  
  



	16. Hit me like a man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally moving forward! More character than plot this time round, but the next chapter is pretty heavy on action so enjoy the slower pace :) Hope you enjoy.

_ “Mr Orihara,” Shiki greeted, raising a hand. The informant was stood in the door, leaning heavily on the walking stick tucked into his waist. He nodded in return and hobbled slowly across the room to sit in the chair Shiki was gesturing too. “Good to see you alive.” _

 

_ “And kicking,” Izaya smirked, lowering himself into the chair. There was a flicker of discomfort on his face but it was soon replaced by a familiar grin. “I do hope my absence hasn’t been of an-any inconvenience to you.” _

 

_ Shiki sparked up a cigarette and held it to his lips. “Not at all. It is good to have you back, though.” _

 

_ “Aw, I missed you too, Shiki.”  _

 

_ Izaya tilted his head to one side and smiled sweetly. It was a sickening sort of sweet, Shiki didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust the informant as far as he could throw him. His information was excellent, that he could count on, but the man himself was a bit of a mystery. Shiki didn't like mysteries. The older man took a drag of his cigarette and observed Izaya closely. He was awfully slender and there were a number of thin red-to-white scars crossing one side of his neck. The way he was hunched over made him look so small compared to the members of the Awakusu-Kai who stood behind him. He was pale enough that his dark, wide features stood out starkly and Shiki was reminded of how young Izaya really was. More boy than man.  _

 

_ “So, what brings you here today, Mr Orihara?” he asked, letting out a cloud of smoke. “You’re not the type to visit without reason.” _

 

_ The younger man’s smile widened far enough to show teeth. “I n-need something that I believe the Awakusu-Kai are able to acquire.” _

 

_ Shiki frowned - it was rare for him to ask anything of them. Izaya would take payment for any information provided but he never asked for other services or items. He even seemed to think of payment as a secondary perk, the informant enjoyed his job so much that he often proclaimed it to be fun. “What do you need?” _

 

_ For a moment, Izaya was silent. His grin faltered and sunk into a hard line, clearly turning over a thought in his mind. Eventually, he sighed and laid his walking stick next to him on the couch. He leaned forward and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I n-need a gun.” _

 

_ If Shiki was surprised, he didn’t show it, he simply took a few drags of his cigarette and let the thick smoke plume from his mouth. The stammer was irritating him, as it didn’t gel with Izaya’s usually smooth voice. “Why do you need a gun?” _

 

_ The informant pursed his lips. “Oh, I don’t think you n-need to know that, my dear Shiki.” _

 

_ “I think I do, Izaya.” _

 

_ Izaya stiffened, uncomfortable with the way the other man was staring at him, gaze unwavering. He sighed and shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Oh, well I suppose if you insist.” _

 

_ The older man shifted forward and stabbed his cigarette into the ashtray on the table between their seats. Izaya knew better than to play too many games with Shiki, he was an intimidating man when he wanted to be. But he was a good businessman, one whom he respected. He had even assisted him after his confrontation with Shizuo, so Izaya believed the respect was mutual.  _

 

_ “As you can see, Sh-Shizu-chan did quite the job of crippling m-me,” he explained, gesturing at his legs with one hand and raising the other arm to show how weak they still were. “I have an inkling that he will want to come a-ah-after me when he knows I’m back.” _

 

_ “And?” Shiki asked, raising a brow. _

 

_ Izaya frowned. “And I n-need to be able to protect myself.”  _

 

_ “Are you going to go looking for Heiwajima?” he asked, brows furrowing. If Izaya didn’t know Shiki so well he would have thought he was worried when in reality he was probably just tired of all the bother.  _

 

_ “N-No,” Izaya replied, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see him again.” _

 

_ The informant was looking at him with such hateful sincerity that he sighed and motioned to Aozaki who was standing by the door. “We’ll get you what you need and have the Courier drop it off in a discreet package. But I want you to keep it hidden, use it only if necessary and if anyone asks where you got it-” _

 

_ “I’ll tell them I f-found it in a dumpster,” he chuckled, picking his walking stick back up. Shakily, he pushed himself up onto his feet and Shiki stood in unison. “Thank you. I would appreciate if you didn’t tell the Courier what she’s delivering. She does worry so.” _

 

_ “Of course,” Shiki answered, nodding. “As I said, we’ll be discreet.”   _

 

_ “I doubt I’ll ever n-need to use it but I would sleep a little easier kn-knowing I can f-fight.” _

 

_ Shiki placed his hands in his pockets and shook his head slightly. The lack of sleep was glaringly obvious from the dark circles around his bloodshot eyeballs. “Boy your age shouldn’t be fighting at all. Look what’s already happened to you.” _

 

_ “If I didn’t kn-know any better, Shiki, I would think you care about my well-being,” Izaya said, giving him a nasty smile. He propped the stick under his arm. “People might think you’re going soft.” _

 

_ “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr Orihara,” the older man replied. “I’m a long way from caring. I just don’t want our best information broker getting himself killed over some childish schoolyard fight, s’bad for business.” _

 

_ Izaya laughed softly. “I appreciate the concern. And the gun, for that matter.” _

 

_ He turned away from Shiki and started to move toward the exit, wincing slightly as a familiar dull ache started to burn around his hips.  _

 

_ “Do you need any help getting to your car?” Shiki called, walking ahead of Izaya to open the door. He glanced up and down the informant’s body and frowned. “That brute really did a number on you, huh?” _

 

_ “Clearly,” Izaya said, coldly. “And no, I’ll be fine.” _

 

_ “You always were tougher than you looked. I was still pretty surprised to hear you lived, I got a glimpse of what you looked like when they dragged you into the car. Nasty business, all that. Heiwajima truly is an animal, ain't he?” Shiki said, smirking. Izaya stared at him blankly. “Never expected you to be scared of him, though.” _

 

_ The younger man halted his movements and glared at Shiki, who stared impassively back. He opened his mouth to insist that he wasn’t afraid of Shizuo, but a knot tightened in his stomach and he felt a tremor run down his spine. It didn’t matter, he thought to himself, when he could protect himself he could get over the fear.  _

 

_ “See you soon, Shiki,” he said, flatly. He turned back to the door and headed out, ignoring the pain as best he could.  _

 

_ “See you soon, info-broker. Stay safe.” _

 

-0-

 

It was another freezing afternoon and Shizuo could feel his fingers growing numb, even in his pockets. His teeth were chattering in his head loud enough to rattle his brain. Vorona peered at him curiously, her face as emotionless as always. 

 

“Would you like to borrow my coat?” she asked, flatly. 

 

Shizuo shook his head. “Nah, you'd freeze to death. Plus, I don't think it would fit me.” 

 

The woman shrugged and lit another cigarette. The man gaped at her, surprised. 

 

“You're not even wearin’ gloves!” he pointed out. “You're gonna lose your fingers.” 

 

Vorona shook her head. “Is colder in homeland. This is nothing.” 

 

“Simon said the same thing,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How long have we got left anyway?”

 

“Tom said we stay until five,” she said, checking her watch. “Is five to five.”

 

Shizuo sighed. Tom was back in the office clearing out some paperwork so it was just him and Vorona out on the streets today. He didn't mind, she was a pleasant, albeit quiet, presence who could damn well hold her ground in a fight. The man didn't really know what to make of her, she was unreadable thanks to her blank face and toneless voice, but he liked her and respected her greatly. 

 

“Y’know I think we can call it a day,” he yawned. It was already dark outside and he intended to pay another visit to Izaya before the night was up.  Hopefully he'd have a more successful talk today, if he could control himself this time. Shizuo had kicked himself the next morning - kissing the flea was so stupid, he could barely believe he’d done it. “We’d only be walkin’ round for the sake of it.” 

 

“Agreed,” she nodded, taking in a rough drag of smoke. “What are you doing this evening?”

 

“I'm, uh, just going out of Ikebukuro to meet a friend,” he replied. 

 

Vorona was still staring, her cold blue eyes going straight through him. “Is ‘friend’ friend, or lover?”

 

“Friend, jeez!” he spluttered. The two of them began walking in the vague direction of the train station. “What makes you ask that?”

 

She prodded his cheek. “You are blushing. Shizuo does not usually blush.”

 

The man laughed and waved her away. “It's just the cold.”

 

“I hope you do not lie to me,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face. “We are friends, after all?”

 

Shizuo gave her a wide smile. “Of course we are, Vorona. But nah, it's just a friend. More of an acquaintance, really.” 

 

They walked in silence for a little while. It was peaceful on the streets of Ikebukuro for once, most likely due to the temperature, and he liked the change. Less people to stare and aggravate - him and Vorona really knew how to stick out of the crowd. 

 

“Are you doing much tonight?” he asked, as they rounded a corner. 

 

“I am seeing man. He is making dinner,” she answered, passively. 

 

“Boyfriend?” Shizuo asked, surprised. He didn't know whether or not Vorona had a partner, he couldn't really picture the lonesome woman with anyone. 

 

“No,” she said, still facing straight ahead. “Is man I find interesting.”

 

“Ah,” he muttered. As ever, she was aggressively honest and to-the- point with her words. He decided to tease her a bit, just to see if it was possible to get a reaction out of the stoic woman. “Do you like him?” 

 

Vorona stopped walking and peered at Shizuo curiously. Slowly, the hard line of her mouth turned upwards. It was just an inch, but it created more emotion on her sculpted face than he had ever seen and it only enhanced her loveliness. 

 

“Yes, I like man,” she nodded. Her smile fell back into stone and she began walking again. “He is challenge.”

 

“So, you think relationships should be challenging?” he asked, raising a brow. 

 

“Is boring otherwise. He is good match. Partner should be both equal and different- no, this doesn't make sense. Apologies, I don't  know how to explain easily.” 

 

Shizuo furrowed his brow and tried to process what she had said. “So your partner should be different, so there's no boredom. And should uh - be on equal standing, so there’s mutual respect?”

 

Vorona pursed her lips and flicked her cigarette to the ground, smoothly stepping on the smoking butt as they continued their walk. “I am not talking about love, Shizuo. Just physical.”

 

“Oh,” he replied, flushing red. “Uh-”

 

“Man is just fun for me, he takes up time,” she sighed, stretching her arms in front of her. She swung them back down by her sides. “I am not type to fall in love. Am not capable.”

 

The redhead frowned. “Of course you are.”

 

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “Some people are unable to feel that level of emotion. I am one of them. Others too, like Egor. Miss Kujiragi. Izaya.”

 

Shizuo halted walking and looked at her, uncertainly. “Izaya?”

 

“Yes. I do not think he is capable of the love he proclaims,” she continued, placing her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket. “Izaya is despicable man, I am glad you hurt him and I am glad I got chance to stab him.”

 

The man remained silent as she turned and began walking again. After a moment, he moved to follow and soon caught up to fall in step with her. “I regret what I did.”

 

“Why?” she said, scowling. “Izaya tried to kill you, caused a lot of people hurt. You did world a favour.”

 

“He  _ didn’t _ kill me though, he was never gonna be able to. Not facing me head on at least. Plus, Celty was there, you stabbed him, Simon and Tom and everyone flocked around to help,” he mumbled, unhappily. “Izaya was just stood there alone until someone took enough pity to drag ‘im away. I almost feel bad for the guy.”

 

“It is his own fault for making so many enemies,” Vorona replied, stoically. “And no friends.”

 

Shizuo thought back to a conversation the pair of them had when Izaya was laying stabbed in his apartment. 

 

_ “You can hang around with your ‘humans’ all you want, but you won’t ever fit in. They’ll never accept someone like you as one a’ them.” _

_ Izaya was silent for a while, staring past Shizuo as if he wasn’t there. Eventually, he turned his head up toward the ceiling. He spoke softly, a voice Shizuo knew was dangerous. “And yet they spend time with a monster like you.” _

_ “I’m not a monster.” _

_ “And I’m not a flea,” Izaya murmured. He turned his head back and his dark eyes bore into Shizuo’s. “Why do they accept you so readily while I am shunned?” _

 

“He made own choices,” Vorona said, pulling him from his thoughts. “He must live with consequences.”

 

“But,” Shizuo began, swallowing thickly. “What about  _ my  _ consequences?”

 

The woman shrugged and swept her hair over her shoulder. “They will find you one day. Same as mine.” 

 

Her eyes hardened at whatever strange thought was running through her mind and she raised a hand before turning left into the subway. 

 

“I see you later, Shizuo.”

 

“See you later, Vorona,” he called out, watching her descend the tiled steps until she was out of sight. 

 

He let out a sigh and headed toward the stairs to the overground rail station, just a few feet away. Consequences, there had to be consequences for what he did. Izaya was obviously physically and emotionally affected by their fight, even after all the time that had passed. Shizuo had struggled at first but soon he found that people started flocking to his side again and with that, he found himself able to put the confrontation out of his mind for a little while. The informant had been right, all those months ago, when he said that they accepted him readily, monstrosity and all. He had not suffered, not like Izaya had been and still was. The redhead frowned as he sat on a bench to wait for the train to Shinjuku. In his lifetime he had committed many the atrocity - think of all the people he’d beaten to a pulp for no good reason, all the bystanders who had gotten in his way. Sure, he didn’t play games like Izaya did but surely there should be some recompense for all his violent stupidity? 

 

Maybe that’s why he was so set on getting Izaya to forgive him, he thought, kicking the leg of the bench with the back of his heel. If he was forgiven, perhaps there would be no need to suffer, no need for consequences. Shizuo ran a hand through his hair and let out an irritated snort. Yeah, right. There was no doubt that Izaya would want him to suffer, no doubt at all. 

 

-0- 

 

The informant had been waiting for hours.

 

_ ‘From childhood’s hour I have not been as others were,’ _

 

The clock struck six thirty and he heard footsteps echoing around the staircase that wound up the centre of the apartment complex.

 

‘ _ I have not seen as others saw,’ _

 

The footsteps stopped outside his door.

 

_ ‘And all I loved, I loved alone.’ _

 

Izaya leaned back in his chair and let the beaten-up book of poetry rest in his lap. It was written in English, a gift from his Father a long time ago. There was a small, handwritten note on the first page that read  _ ‘To our darling son, with all our love’ _ . Izaya slid the book onto his desk and reached for the glass of water beside his laptop. He wondered if his parents still thought about him, he wondered if they were still alive. Contacting them had never been an option, not with the business he had chosen to get into. A couple of soft knocks sounded from the front door, then another two, louder than before. He smiled softly and placed the water back down so that he could lift the loaded handgun off the table. Would he be a disappointment to them, he mused, would they even recognise him? The front door crashed open and Izaya stood, aiming the gun with both hands. 

 

“Evening Sh-Shizu-chan!” he called, brightly. It was a forced tone, for inside he felt like screaming.

 

He shot before the man in the doorway could answer. There was little sound from the gun thanks to the long silencer screwed into the barrel but the wall beside Shizuo’s head cracked loudly when the bullet smashed into it. The redhead turned to look at the hole it made with a scowl on his face and slammed the door behind him. Izaya smirked, though he immediately felt anxiety turn his stomach. He wasn’t certain if the bullet had misfired due to his shaking hands and weakened arms, or if he had missed on purpose. Whatever the reason, it meant Shizuo was now stomping across the living room toward him with a vicious look on his reddening face. 

 

“Are you still trying to shoot me, Iz-a-ya?” he growled, stopping in front of the informant’s desk. Swiftly, he yanked the gun out of his hands and shoved it into the deep pockets of his winter coat. 

 

“I told y-you n-not to come back,” the brunette replied, with a huff. He sat down in his office chair and rested his elbows on the desk. “I’m n-not going to forgive you. For f-fucking me up or assaulting m-me last night.”

 

Shizuo blinked and his lips turned downward into a frown. “You think I assaulted you?”

 

“You kissed m-me without permission.”

 

“Oh,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you liked me kissing you?”

 

Izaya stared at him incredulously. The beast truly was an idiot. An idiot or a man so unsure of his own emotions that he confused himself. Probably an idiot, he thought. “You r-rather missed the boat on that, Sh-Shizu-chan.”

 

“So - you used to?”

 

The informant flushed an angry shade of crimson. He felt his heart racing faster and faster and it was growing difficult to breathe. “Get out of my house.”

 

The other man watched him silently for a moment, gaze tracing the outline of his lips. Part of him knew he should leave, that this wasn’t at all fair on Izaya, but another part wanted to push him. Push him as he’d always pushed Shizuo. 

 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked. 

 

Izaya balked and shook his head furiously, despising the sincerity on the larger man’s face. His hands were trembling violently against the chair. “F-Fuck you. Why w-would I want to kiss you? I hate you!”

 

Shizuo smiled. It was an unpleasant grin that often graced Izaya’s own face and the informant  _ hated  _ it. “You hated me before too.”

 

“That’s-”

 

“Plus, you said you didn’t hate me yesterday, didn’t you?” he continued, leaning against the opposite edge of the table with the heels of his hands. “Me being human and all.”

 

“You’re s-such an asshole.”

 

“Nah, I’m a sweetheart,” Shizuo chuckled. He raised one of his arms and showed Izaya the plastic bag he was carrying. “See? I bought dinner.”

 

“Get. Out,” Izaya ground out, clenching his fists around the arms of his chair. He wanted to beast gone, he wanted him to fuck off and never return so that he wouldn’t have to feel this weak and he would _not_ have to confront any of his worries. 

 

“Not gonna happen. Where are your plates?” 

 

The informant snarled under his breath and picked up the glass of water so that he could throw it at the other man. Shizuo smoothly stepped to the side and continued looking at Izaya as if nothing had happened. The redhead raised a brow and carried on holding the other’s furious gaze until the fire started to rescind and Izaya huffed an annoyed sigh. 

 

“Kitchen,” he mumbled, hanging his head. He just wanted the beast out of his sight, maybe then he could reconcile his panicked thoughts. 

 

“Good, flea,” Shizuo responded, turning on his heel. He shed his winter coat onto the sofa on the way to the kitchen. He let out a shaky breath as he turned a corner into the other room. It was getting more difficult to keep himself steady around Izaya - the strange mix of anger, lust and guilt was confusing him to no end and he didn’t know what he was doing. 

 

Izaya let his forehead fall onto the desk and let out a few pained gasps, trying to loosen his tight chest. It felt like he was suffocating, choking on the very air that kept him alive. He tried to rationalise with himself desperately. Keep calm, keep calm,  _ run faster _ , he’s not going to kill you. Keep calm, calm down, calm down,  _ he’s throwing up blood on an office block floor,  _ don’t worry, it’s all fine,  _ and there was a crunch and a stab and he was going to die.  _ The informant wanted to sit up but he found that he couldn’t move his arms for a moment. When he finally managed to drag himself backward, he saw Shizuo standing in front of his desk, staring down at him with two bowls in his hands. 

 

“You okay, flea?”he asked. 

 

“N-N-” he gasped, feeling a weight tighten around his neck. This was worse than the first time he saw him, worse than any of the dreams. The room was spinning, his head ached as if he were drunk. He felt suffocated, Shizuo was everywhere, he could smell him and see him and hear the sound of his own bones snapping out of their sockets ringing loudly in his ears-

 

“Flea?” Shizuo called, alarmed. The smaller man flopped forward onto his desk, his head colliding with the wood with a loud smack. The redhead placed the bowls down and moved to Izaya’s side, turning his shoulder gently so that he could look at him. His face was ruddy from the constant panting and his lips were stamped with puckered scarlet crescents from where he had been biting them. Shizuo checked his pulse and it seemed to be slowing down from its rapid beat, which was reassuring. He sighed and laid his forehead against the edge of Izaya’s chair, where the informant’s limp arm still rested. This was unexpected, he thought. Actually, no, no it wasn't. The smaller man reacted in a similar way the first time he saw him but this time he’d actually passed out. Slowly, he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

 

“What am I gonna do with you, flea?” he sighed, shaking his head. “What am I going to do?”

 

With barely an effort, he lifted Izaya out of the chair and held him. The informant was little more than sprawled out dead weight across his forearms and his head lolled against Shizuo’s chest as if his neck was snapped. Carefully, he carried him across the room and laid him down on the sofa, taking care to prop his head up on a pillow to support it. Shizuo knelt beside him for a moment, watching him closely. He couldn’t really leave him in this state, but he couldn’t stay and cause him to react like this again either. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone, scrolling down his messages to find Shinra’s number. 

 

“Hey, Shizuo!” came the ever-cheerful voice of the doctor from the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

 

The redhead pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you free? I need someone to look after Izaya until he wakes up.”

 

“Izaya?” he asked. There was a momentary pause. “What did you do to him this time?”

 

“Nothing! Well, I didn’t hit him or anythin’,” he replied, staring at the informant’s unmoving face. “I came to visit, he tried to shoot me, then he panicked and passed out.” 

 

“Oh, okay!” Shinra laughed. “Sure, I can come watch him, I’ve been meaning to visit anyway. I’ll even bring over some medicine! I take it you’re at his place?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay! I’ll get Celty to drop me over as soon as possible, then she can take you home.”

 

Shizuo groaned and sat back so that his head rested on the edge of the seat cushions. “She’s gonna kill me.”

 

“Sure is! Huh- oh I said you were gonna kill him. What for? Oh just you wait ‘till you hear my beautiful Cel-”

 

The phone cut off into a high-pitched dial tone. The man sighed and dropped it onto the coffee table before sliding down onto the floor with his back against the sofa. From his seated position, their faces were at the same level. This had been such a stupid idea, he thought. He rolled his head to the side so they were looking at one another dead on. 

 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I’m really sorry. I guess I fucked up, huh?”

 

Izaya didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just lay there breathing steadily. Shizuo’s gaze softened and he reached out a hand to push the informant’s fringe away from his eyes. 

 

“I didn’t want to forget all the shit you’ve done to me over the years, that’s why I said no. I guess I was afraid of not hating you, cos I’ve always hated you - stupid, huh?” he chuckled, humorlessly. His expression soured. “You still piss me off, flea. But I don’t hate you anymore.”

 

He stroked his hand through the other’s dark hair, enjoying the softness threading between his fingers. Being honest, even if Izaya was out-cold, felt good, weight was lifting from his shoulders. Something Izaya said that day slipped into his thoughts. 

 

_ ‘I told myself to go with my gut for once. And my gut is telling me that I want you.’ _

 

That was probably the most honest Izaya had ever been in his entire life. His response had been to kick the shit out of the flea, hadn’t it? Shizuo ran a hand over Izaya’s sharp cheekbone, taking care to be gentle. He felt a pang of shameful anger hit him as he felt scarring beneath his fingertips.

 

“I didn’t want to hurt you, you idiot,” he hissed, gritting his teeth together. “Why did you have to come back? Why did you have to try and kill me? Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

 

Izaya didn’t have to be awake for Shizuo to realise the reason why was glaringly obvious. The larger man felt something hot prick the corners of his eyes but he blinked it away. Perhaps this was his consequence, he thought, lowering his hand from Izaya’s face.  

  
  
  
  
  



	17. Exit wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took such a long time guys, I had a bit of trouble writing this chapter. Working out their thoughts at this stage is proving trickier than expected and I can't really rush the next development without laying out their motivations. Hope you enjoy!

By the time Izaya woke, Shizuo had already left. Instead, he was greeted with Shinra’s bright smile. He was relieved that the beast was gone but surprised to see his friend in his apartment. The last thing he could remember was sat at his desk trying to calm himself down then - nothing. Shinra passed him a glass of what appeared to be his most expensive whiskey. Upon tasting it, that was confirmed. He would have been annoyed had it not soothed his nerves so well.

 

“Morning sleepy-head!” he laughed, the sound a pleasant bubble that the other man found quite irritating. 

 

“What happened?” Izaya asked, sitting upright. He ran his free hand through his hair and felt sweat clinging to his fingers. “Where’s-?”

 

“He’s gone,” Shinra interrupted, smile dropping momentarily. It soon spread back across his face, wider than before. “He asked me to look after you, said you probably wouldn’t want to see him when you woke up.”

 

“Well, he got that r-right,” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. He didn’t look at the other man and took another sip of his drink. The surge of bitter alcohol cleared his frazzled brain and he started to feel the ground beneath his feet again. Still, there was a cloying tension in the air, he wanted it gone. “You can go now.”

 

Shinra shook his head and stood up from the floor. “Nah, I think I’m gonna stay here tonight, just to be sure you don’t pass out again.”

 

“What? No-”

 

“Oh and Celty too! I promise we won’t ‘do anything’ in your spare bed.”

 

“Shinra-”

 

“Well, I probably shouldn’t promise things I can’t keep. If she started to-”

 

“Shinra!” Izaya shouted, clapping his hands at the other man to get his attention. “I don’t n-need you to stay.”

 

The doctor chuckled and turned away from Izaya. “I know. But I’m going to anyway and there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

 

The informant sighed and leaned back into the sofa cushions. Shinra sat in the armchair opposite him, smile unwavering. 

 

“I don’t  _ want _ you to stay, Shinr-”

 

“Why do you have a gun?” 

 

He looked up at the doctor and raised a brow. “Why does anyone have a gun?” 

 

“Well, it’s primary purpose would be as a weapon, so - to kill or wound another being.”

 

“Well, there's your answer.” 

 

Shinra tilted his head to one side and laughed lightly. “You don't want to kill anyone, Izaya.” 

 

A stony look hardened on the informant’s face. “Oh, yeah? And what makes you say that?” 

 

“All that gubbins about loving humans,” he replied, shaking his head as if the very idea was ridiculous. “You wouldn't want to kill something you love, would you?” 

 

Izaya glared at him so fiercely that Shinra’s smile dropped and he held up his hands in defence. A noise from the hallway drew their attention and when they turned to the source they saw Celty walking through the front door. She slammed it roughly behind her and stomped across the room to sit beside Shinra. Izaya raised a brow - she certainly didn’t look happy.

 

“What’s the matter Celty, my love?” the doctor hummed, resting a hand on her knee. She swatted him away and jammed her PDA under his nose. 

 

_ I told him not to go looking for Izaya and what does he do?!  _

 

“He is an idiot of the highest calibre,” Shinra chuckled, lacing an arm around the Dullahan’s shoulders. 

 

“I take it y-you’re talking about Shizu-chan,” the informant asked, lacing his hands together in his lap. 

 

Celty stood and crossed the room so that she could sit next to him.  _ Did he hurt you? _

 

“Oh please,” Izaya sneered, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start feigning care now, Dullahan.”

 

Shinra scowled and clicked his tongue. “Her name is Celty. Speak to her with a little respect, Izaya, or did you forget she saved your sorry life?”

 

“I didn’t ask her to,” he replied, with a sneer. He turned to face the headless woman and narrowed his eyes. “Besides, you only did that to save Sh-Shizu-chan’s hide, didn’t you? How  _ awfully  _ chivalrous of you, monster.”

 

Celty didn’t move, so he carried on looking into the empty helmet. Shadows started to seep from around her neck and her shoulders tensed tightly, but she didn’t turn away. Izaya smiled, his teeth reflecting in the darkness of the visor like some floating Cheshire grin. A hand slapped down on his shoulder, causing him to jump. He looked up to see Shinra standing above him, a grim expression set on his face. 

 

“Izaya, you’re my friend so I’ll give you one warning,” he said, voice unusually cold. He bent at the waist so he could look the other man in the eye. The hand on his shoulder tightened and Izaya winced when sharp fingers dug into the soft skin above his collarbone. “Call Celty a monster again and I’ll cut your face off and sew it to your ass. Got it?”

 

“Loud and clear,”  the informant smirked and nodded, raising his glass to his lips once again. He took a long sip of his drink, watching Shinra closely as he sat back in the armchair. Finally, he lowered his glass and licked the whiskey from the corner of his mouth.

 

"Good," Shinra said, folding his arms over his chest. Izaya stood and turned away from him so that he could slowly hobble across the room and around the desk to take a seat back in his chair. The doctor raised an eyebrow at the way his legs jerked and sighed, shaking his head. He frowned when he caught sight of the sofa close to the desk, which was covered in a number of pillows and blankets. Celty turned her head to look at the informant, who was now seated behind his desk. "Have you been sleeping down here?"

 

Izaya looked up at him sternly and pursed his lips. "N-None of your business."

 

It was then Celty noticed the dark shadows that circled his eyes and the grey pallor of his skin. His cheekbones had always been prominent, but his face looked hollow now. In fact, his clothes seemed to be hanging off him. He looked exhausted. The doctor frowned and the Dullahan tilted her helmet to one side. Was it appropriate for her to be worried about him - this vile creature who tried to kill her best friend? She had always thought of Izaya as near super-human; he had such a vast skill-set and intellect that he intimidated most around him. A man who prided himself on achieving the best and one who didn't mind taking on multiple faces at the same time. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to stay on top of the bizarre job he had created for himself. All the false personas, the details - perhaps the weight was too much for him now.

 

Izaya rubbed his temples softly. Another migraine seemed to be brewing behind his eyes. He sighed and retrieved a packet of painkillers from the drawer next to him. This was no good, he still had a lot of work to do before he could sleep tonight. Quickly, he stuffed a couple of pills into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of whiskey.

 

"Are you okay?" Shinra asked. Izaya glanced up at the doctor and was irked by the look of concern on his face. "You don't look wel-"

 

"I'm just swell," Izaya hissed, irritably. He waved his hand toward the couple. "Please, you can go. I’ll be fine. If I f-feel like I’m going to pass out I’ll call you, okay?"

 

Shinra scowled at his obvious side-stepping and reached for his bag. "Fine, fine. We’ll go."

 

"Thank you," he said, brusquely. The man plucked a cigarette from the emergency packet stuffed in the top drawer of his desk and flicked open a lighter with his other hand. As he placed the lighter down on the desk, he placed the filter into his mouth and took a long drag. He looked back at Shinra, who was sending him a judgemental look. "What?"

 

"You look sick, Izaya," he chided, wagging his finger. "You shouldn't smoke."

 

"Don't lecture me," he snapped, tone suddenly angry. Shinra's eyes widened slightly and he took a step back from the desk. The informant’s fierce glare dropped when he noticed his movement and he glanced away from him, annoyed with himself for reacting in such a way. “You were the one who gave m-me a drink. Recently, when I drink, I w-want to smoke.”

 

"I’m your friend," Shinra replied, swallowing thickly. "You can talk to me. About anything. You’re as stubborn as an ox sometimes and I know you don’t want help, but you gotta realise that you’re allowed to feel all jumbled about and fucked up and sad. That doesn’t mean you’re defeated or damaged - it just means you’re human. All this business with Shizuo-"

 

"Get out," Izaya ordered, waving a hand toward the door. He closed his eyes, exhausted and continued to smoke. His head was beginning to pound. “You didn’t seem to give a shit when I was dying, so don’t pretend y-you do n-now.”

 

The doctor’s mouth fell open slightly in shock. That wasn’t true, he thought, of course that wasn’t true. After the confrontation, he had briefly been with Izaya’s lifeless body. The headless rider stemmed some of the bloody punctures with shadow but Shinra doubted that it was the stab wound that would kill him. When Celty laid him on the ground in the alley not far from the war-zone, he inspected the broken body and it made him feel queasy. Everything was broken, or bleeding, or bruised. His friend was dying. Initially, he tried to get Celty to bring him to the lab so he could look after him but this request was refused by Namie Yagiri. Her and Celty agreed that it was likely Shizuo would come looking to finish him off and their lab was the first place he would look. Instead, the informant was bundled into the back of a car and swiftly driven from the city, Namie’s skilled hands working quickly to try and save his pitiful life. Shinra remembered feeling useless, standing in that alleyway with his friend’s blood on his palms. After that day, he had no idea where Izaya had gone. The Awakusu-Kai were tight-lipped on where he had been taken and the doctor had no idea how to get in touch with Namie Yagiri. He clung to the hope that the other man was alive. As unpleasant and bad-natured as Izaya was, he was still his friend and Heaven knows he didn’t have many of those to lose. 

 

Shinra watched him for a moment longer then turned on his heel and headed out of the office, clutching his bag tightly in his hand. Izaya infuriated him, he was still as arrogant and bullheaded as ever but he couldn't help but feel worried. The man was clearly suffering but there was no way he would accept any help and, unlike Namie, Shinra wasn’t the type to force it upon him. He racked his brains for a way to get through to him - what would get through to Shizuo? They were equally stubborn, after all. Maybe it was better to let the two of them sort out their issues alone, without their interference. He jammed his finger on the elevator button and let out an angry sigh. 

 

"Damn it, Izaya."

 

When the informant opened his eyes, Celty was still standing in front of his desk. He stared at her blankly, then let out a puff of smoke. “What?”

 

_ He’s only trying to help.  _

 

“Well he isn’t.”

 

_ You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?  _ Celty typed, furiously. A shadow shot out from behind her back and something flew across the room onto his desk with a loud bang. Izaya jumped back instinctively, eyes widening in shock. The gun lay still on the table, shining under his desk light. Celty shoved her PDA back in his face. 

 

_ Here’s your damn gun. I wanted to keep it but Shinra said you’d feel more comfortable with it.  _

 

“Oh-”

 

_ But I swear to God, if you shoot Shizuo I will strangle you.  _

 

Izaya smirked and leaned over his desk so that he could take the firearm in one hand. He pointed it carelessly at the Dullahan and rested his finger on the trigger. 

 

“I can’t promise anything. I don't want him anywhere n-near me, but as you said yourself, Shizu-chan doesn't like to listen. He’ll be back,” he answered, narrowing his eyes at her. “Out of interest, what would happen if I shot you, monster?” 

 

Celty inclined her helmet and her shoulders shook silently, as if she were laughing.  _ What, you think I’d die from something like that? A Dullahan of the Unseelie Court? _

 

The man frowned as she neared the desk. Gently, the woman placed her forefinger down on the muzzle of the handgun and pushed it down until it rested on the wood. A shadow jerked the PDA close to his face, making him flinch. 

 

_ I know you say I am growing more human by the day but I am still a harbinger of death. You’d do well not to forget that, Izaya.  _

 

The woman turned away from him and slunk towards the front door, shadows thrashing around her shoulders. Izaya observed the creature silently until the door closed behind her. The Dullahan was a strange creature, otherworldly - how often that fact slipped away! When she was with Shinra or Anri, even Shizuo, she seemed so human. The man smiled softly to himself, dropping the gun entirely. She could never be human, he chuckled, there was no changing her. He turned his chair around to look back at the cityscape. Perhaps he had been too harsh with Shinra, he was his only friend after all. But it did sting every day he lay in that hospital bed, with only Namie at his side, aching for company. He thought his friend might at least have tried to help him, he was a doctor and at that time had been closer to him than Namie. But no, instead he was shipped off by the Awakusu, a group who were only interested in him for business purposes. The few months where he had been unable to speak or move his fingers to type had been the most agonising. He had been so very lonely. 

 

Somewhere between a sigh and the end of the glass of whiskey, he fell asleep in his desk chair and remained there until the dawn broke the Winter morning. 

 

-0- 

 

The beast visited the following night, seemingly having ignored Celty’s warning. Izaya missed his shot again, the bullet smashed into an expensive statue he had been gifted by a client and shattered it into tiny pieces. He knew he wasn’t aiming to kill, he just wanted Shizuo to be aware that he wasn’t totally beaten, he could still fight if necessary. It was a warning. This meeting lasted longer than the previous two, Shizuo actually managed to get him to have a short conversation and eat a few mouthfuls of food before Izaya started frantically shouting for the other man to leave. The redhead left without fuss for once, giving the informant enough time and space to calm down before sending himself spiralling out of control. The reaction wasn’t as severe as the evening before but it still took him an hour to settle himself. It didn’t surprise him when Shizuo turned up the next night either. And the night after that. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was pulling on a t-shirt and some sweatpants when he heard the front door open. When he exited the bathroom and moved downstairs, Shizuo was already in the kitchen rustling around for plates. He didn’t bother waiting for the other man and went straight into the living room.

 

“Don’t you kn-know when to give up?” he asked, exasperated. He slumped against the back of the sofa and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. 

 

“Nope,” Shizuo replied, as he entered the room. Izaya felt his heartbeat pick up when he caught sight of the beast. Even though he was carrying two bowls of steaming-hot food and there was a wolfish smile on his face, he still felt the unwanted pang of fear that didn’t seem to want to die. “Now, you gonna play nice tonight?”

 

“What do you mean n-nice?” he retorted, scowling. 

 

“Well, you haven’t tried to shoot me yet,” Shizuo chuckled and pushed one of the bowls into his hands. The larger man maneuvered around him to sit on the sofa, placing his food down on the coffee table. “I’d like it if you could g-”

 

On cue, a dull  _ ping _ rang out from beside his ear and a bullet smashed into the fireplace on the opposite side of the coffee table. Shizuo blinked and turned his head to see the silencer just by his ear. Izaya lowered the gun and moved to sit in the armchair to the left of the other man, setting his bowl down beside the other. The informant smirked at him and rested the firearm on the arm of his chair. 

 

“Just so you kn-know not to try anything,” he warned. “Animal.”

 

“I’m not an animal,” the man replied, furrowing his brow. He was mildly pleased with Izaya’s reaction - it was far more like the snide, sarcastic flea he used to play with. 

 

“Could have f-f-fooled me.”

 

Shizuo frowned and a vein pulsed angrily in his forehead. He took in a deep breath and reached for the bowl on the table, not wanting to let his rage get the better of him. “How do you feel at the moment?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you scared?” he asked, spearing a prawn with his fork. “Of me being here?”

 

Izaya stared at him blankly. ‘ _ Confusion now hath made his masterpiece’. _ Was he afraid? His gaze focused on the man sitting in front of him, casually eating as if he were sitting with a friend. He didn’t look intimidating at that moment but the more Izaya looked, the more he saw. The net of scars and burn marks across his tan arms, just visible beneath the cuffs of his shirt, told of fights spanning years. When he leaned forward to grab hold of the glass of water on the table, his lean muscles strained through the material of his clothing, telling of power unbound. There were few signs of what Shizuo could really do visible at that moment but Izaya knew better than to underestimate him. No, he’d learned that lesson at last. ‘ _ Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change’. _

 

“Yes,” he replied, bluntly. Shizuo’s brows raised in surprise. “Of course I am Sh-Shizu-chan.”

 

The redhead sighed and set his bowl back down on the table just as Izaya picked up his own. The informant began to eat slowly, only then realising how hungry he was. It must have been days since he ate properly - best not to tell Namie that, he thought.

 

“You don’t have to be,” Shizuo said, carefully. “I know you have reason to but I ain’t gonna hurt you like that again.”

 

Izaya’s lips quirked into a nasty smile. He placed the fork into the bowl with a clatter. “‘Like that’, how telling.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“‘Like that’. I presume you m-mean to the same extent as before,” he answered. “Indicating, you’re n-not promising to stop hurting me altogether.”

 

Shizuo stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the floor as if he were afraid of holding the gaze. “That’s ‘cos I can’t promise that. With my strength, I might-”

 

“I see,” the informant replied, with a wry smile. “At least you’re honest.”

 

He shut his eyes and leaned back into the sofa cushions, resting the bowl on his lap. Shizuo looked back up at him and the pair sat in awkward silence as Izaya breathed steadily in and out. Beneath the bowl, his fingers were trembling. 

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Shizuo asked, concerned. He knew Izaya reacted badly to his presence but for some reason he couldn’t stay away. He wanted to push him, he wanted the smaller man to see that there was no real danger from him anymore. A small voice in the back of his head laughed and reminded him that the peace was only so long as  _ he  _ could keep his temper.  _ You’re still a monster, right? _

 

“Give m-me a second,” he gasped, clasping the sides of the bowl tightly. “N-Need-”

 

“Take your time,” Shizuo said, picking up his food again. He ate quietly as Izaya calmed himself, watching as the other man pressed a hand against his pounding heart gently. “I can wait.”

 

Eventually, the informant let out a cool, smooth breath and opened his eyes, blinking blearily at the floor. He searched the haze for Shizuo and kept his breathing even, calm. He didn’t feel afraid, he told himself. 

 

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asked, quietly. 

 

Shizuo tensed and set his now empty bowl down on the table. “I think that’s pretty obvious, flea.”

 

“Why?” the man hissed, angrily. “I just w-want you to leave me alone. You were the one who said goodbye, weren’t you?”

 

“I was wrong,” Shizuo answered, calmly. He was too calm, Izaya thought, why was he so fucking calm. “I want to make things right.” 

 

Izaya let out a noise of irritation and slammed his bowl down on the table. “N-No, that’s not fair.”

 

“Neither was all the shit you did to me for years,” he reminded him, voice turning into a husky growl. 

 

“That’s different.”

 

“I don’t see how,” Shizuo grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “You tried to kill me and sent gangs after me, you ruined every job I applied for, fucked up every relationship I gave a shot and tormented my head every day for  _ years _ , flea.”

 

“And you permanently crippled m-me,” he snapped in response. “We’re even. Surely now we can leave this all in the past and move on with our lives.”

 

The two men sat in silence, Izaya looking at the ground, Shizuo looking at him. Eventually, the redhead stood and moved to stand in front of the Izaya with his hands in his pockets. The informant glared up at him and his fist clenched in his lap as Shizuo rested one knee on the seat of the armchair next to his thigh so that he could lean in closer. 

 

“I don’t want that.”

 

“So w-what?” Izaya asked, with an exasperated laugh. He intentionally echoed a question Shizuo had asked him a long time ago. “You fucked m-me once and now y-you like me or something? After all that hap-”

 

He was cut off when Shizuo laced a hand through the back of his hair and pulled him forward into a kiss. Izaya froze, eyes wide open, heart pounding roughly against his chest. The beast was being gentle, the kiss wasn’t desperate or hard, but rather pleasant, and the fingers holding the back of his head stroked through his hair in a manner that made a shiver run down his spine. Izaya didn’t push him away but he didn’t return the kiss either, he was at a complete loss with what to do. All he could think about was how warm the other man was and how much he enjoyed the familiar heat. His stomach twisted and for a moment he considered deepening this kiss. Part of him wanted this so desperately, it was what he had craved for so many years - contact, attention, warmth. But no, not with Shizuo, not with the beast who rejected him before, who nearly killed him - surely not. His thoughts grew more frantic, he felt sick, he started to shudder. Eventually, Shizuo pulled back and rested his forehead against the informant’s. Much to his surprise when he opened his eyes, he was met with Izaya’s watery gaze. The redhead pulled back a little. The other man looked down at his lap and grit his teeth together hard enough that Shizuo could hear them grinding. 

 

“I fucked you twice,” Shizuo replied, softly. 

 

Izaya let out a breathy, incredulous laugh, shaking his head from side to side. His eyes fluttered shut before any tears had the chance to fall and he finally raised one shaking hand to rest flat on Shizuo’s chest. 

 

“This isn’t f-fair,” he mumbled. The hand on the other man’s chest curled into a fist and he beat it against the hard muscle in anger. Shizuo barely felt the weak punches and allowed him to continue as he seemed to need an outlet. “Why couldn’t y-you have listened to me before?”

 

“Because I'm a big idiot,” Shizuo sighed, a tired smile forming on his face. He stroked the back of Izaya’s hair and the smile grew wider. “You were right ‘bout that.” 

 

Izaya leaned back and opened his eyes so that he could look at the other man. There was so much uncertainty in his gaze and Shizuo didn't know what to say to rectify it. He was still confused about his own thoughts but he allowed himself to feel them to their full extent, no longer hiding or pretending. The man sat in front of him could no longer be called the one he hated most, and that was okay. It was okay. They had both inflicted awful things upon the other but it was time to stop, or the hatred would eat them alive.

 

“I’m so tired of hatin’ you, flea,” Shizuo sighed, smoothing his hand down the side of Izaya’s neck. “I'm sorry.” 

 

Izaya blinked twice, unsure if he had misheard the other man. The fingers tracing his jugular vein sent a shudder through him and he caught them with his own hand to still the movements. Shizuo raised a brow but didn't protest and lowered his arm, letting it rest on Izaya’s shoulder.

 

“W-what do you expect me to say?” he asked, weakly. The informant wanted to be angry, he wanted to spit pure hatred back into that honest face, but he was too exhausted. Shizuo was looking at him with hope in his expression and he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he wanted. 

 

The beast shrugged. “I'm not sure on that myself. I'm not gonna say we should act like none ‘a this happened, cos that's stupid.”

 

“I don't th-think I could if I tried,” Izaya retorted, lacing his hands together in his lap. He swallowed thickly. This was getting to be more than his brain could handle tonight. “I'm tired. I n-need to sleep.” 

 

Shizuo leaned back so that he could stand upright. He stared silently at Izaya for a moment, lips drawn out into a hard line, then he sighed and turned away from the informant. 

 

“Sure,” he answered, sitting back on the couch. He laid his arms across the back seat and gave the other man a small smile. “Shall I come back tomorrow?” 

 

“Even if I say no you'll still be here, w-won't you?” Izaya replied, scowling.

 

“Yeah, probably,” Shizuo answered, grinning. 

 

“Then n-no,” he said. His dark eyes fixed on the other man. “Bring omelette. I've got a taste for eggs at the m-moment.”

 

Shizuo nodded and he felt his stomach flutter. “Sure.” 

 

“I don’t understand you, Shizu-chan. Does my forgiveness really matter?” the informant asked, inclining his head. “Is all this to make me feel better, or yourself?”

 

The redhead placed his hands in his pockets and stood upright, uncomfortable under the other man's scrutinous gaze. “It matters.”

 

“I see,” Izaya replied, coldly. The man intentionally avoided his last question and it was telling. “How selfish.”

 

“Selfish?”

 

“Did it cross your th-thick mind that I might not want you anymore?” the informant snarled, narrowing his eyes. 

 

“Yes it crossed my mind,” Shizuo replied, gruffly. “But when you’re not thinkin’ too much, what does your gut tell you that you want?”

 

Izaya stared at him silently for a moment, with wide, angry eyes. He made a noise of irritation and looked away, covering his eyes with his hand. “Get out. Get out r-right now, Shizu-chan.”

 

The beast left quietly, not wishing to disturb the other man further. When he heard the front door click shut, Izaya growled under his breath and leaned back so that his head was resting on the back of the armchair. He opened his eyes and gaze at the high ceiling. This was all so unfair that he wanted to scream. 

 


	18. Wake in torment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter as I wanted to include a couple flashbacks in the next one. Enjoy!

Izaya was sitting at his desk, typing on his laptop when Shizuo entered the following evening. The informant didn't look at him, his gaze remained focused in the screen. One hand remained working over the trackpad and the other reached into the drawer beside him to retrieve the gun, which he placed on the desk beside him. Then he went back to typing. Shizuo rolled his eyes but was pleased that he hadn't been shot at this time. 

 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he sighed, crossing the room. He reached into his bag and placed a carton of eggs down beside the firearm. Izaya’s gaze flicked quickly back and forth. “I got some eggs, like you said.” 

 

“Then go m-make an omelette,” Izaya replied, unpleasantly. “I'm still working.” 

 

Shizuo felt a vein throb in his forehead and drew in a breath to calm down. He pulled out a bottle from his bag and placed it on the keyboard, mashing the keys and halting the other man’s actions. Izaya glared at him, then looked back at the bottle. It was whiskey, expensive by the looks of it. 

 

“And I brought this,” he said, irritably. “Since it’s Christmas.” 

 

“Christmas?” Izaya repeated, wrapping a hand around the neck of the bottle. There was a small ribbon tied around it, upon which was threaded a small card. He turned it over to see ‘ _ To Shizuo, love Kasuka’  _ written neatly on the back. “Shouldn't you be with your loved ones?” 

 

“Kasuka’s away filming in America,” he answered. “I spent all day with friends at Shinra and Celty’s place, they were having a party for all the waifs and strays with no-one to see. They said they called you but you didn’t pick up, obviously. I guessed you'd be alone.” 

 

“You guessed correctly, well done Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s expression remained blank. “Go back to the party, I don’t want you here.”

 

“Nah, I’m already here now,” he dismissed, picking up the carton of eggs. “I’ll go make something, can’t promise it’ll be any good though. Feel free to open the whiskey. It should be up to your fancy tastes, flea.”

 

Izaya frowned and pointed to the tag on the bottle. “This is from your brother.”

 

“Yeah, nice, right?” 

 

“Why are y-you sharing it with me?” he asked, flatly. “A gift from your  _ precious  _ brother is surely too good for me.”

 

Shizuo shrugged and turned away so that he could walk toward the kitchen. He called back to Izaya and raised a hand. “‘Cos I wanted to. Jus’ shut up and drink it, flea.”

 

The informant sat, silently seething, the bottleneck clenched tightly between his fingers. He let out a shaky breath and placed the bottle back on the table, retrieving the knife from his trouser pocket so that he could slice through the ribbon and the wax seal around the cap. The cork popped out with a satisfying noise and the pleasant smell of oak and honey wafted from the open bottle. Izaya looked down at the ribbon on the table and scowled. He raised the knife and stabbed it down into the tag, tearing through the part that read ‘ _ love Kasuka’.  _ That would irk the beast, he thought, chuckling darkly. He reached for the empty glass next to the gun and poured himself a rather large measure, swirling the amber liquid in the glass for a moment before taking a sharp sip. It was good, very good, definitely of fine quality -  damn. 

 

“Pour me a glass!” came the sound of the beast’s voice from the kitchen. 

 

“Screw you!” he called back, annoyed. 

 

Shizuo poked his head out of the kitchen and flashed the other man a dark scowl. “Can’t you be nice for once? It’s Christmas for fuck’s sake.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to come here, beast, so I’ve no obligation to be nice to you,” he retorted, looking back at his laptop.

 

Shizuo bustled around the kitchen for a little while, leaving Izaya to finish encrypting a few files to send over to a client. The beast entered the room again some time later and dropped a bowl of food beside his laptop.

 

“I was shit at omelette, so I made scrambled eggs,” he said, gruffly. “But they still taste pretty good.”

 

Izaya raised a brow and slid the bowl closer and peered inside. “It’ll do, I guess.”

 

Shizuo rolled his eyes and dragged one of the armchairs across the room so he could sit on the opposite side of the desk. The informant looked on in disgust. 

 

“What?”

 

“Your strength n-never ceases to amaze me, Shizu-chan,” he replied, shaking his head. He closed his laptop as Shizuo sat down opposite him. The armchair was a lot lower than the desk but the beast’s height made up for that and they were at eye-level with one another. “Though I always th-thought a punch would kill me, rather than j-just break my bones.”

 

“You were lucky you had your arms up,” Shizuo said, through a mouthful of eggs. 

 

“Please don’t speak with your m-mouth full,” Izaya glared at him until he swallowed the food completely.

 

“If I’d hit your head you probably would have died,” he finished, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The informant was glowering at him but underneath the hatred, there was something else. Something that was causing his fingers to tremble around the cutlery he held. “Sorry.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, annoyed. He flashed Shizuo a wide, fake smile. “I guess I’m just  _ so _ lucky.”

 

Shizuo smiled, rolling his head to one side. Izaya frowned again and cocked an eyebrow curiously. "You look better when you smile, flea."

 

The man froze and groaned internally when he felt his cheeks heat up. He leaned back in his chair, flustered slightly. The beast never failed to affect him in a way no other could.

 

"I-I," he stammered. Shizuo snickered, causing him to flush further. "Stop laughing at me!"

 

"Sorry," he chuckled, reaching for his glass of whiskey. "Anyway, I’ve been meanin’ to ask. Where’s your terrifying secretary? You two seemed pretty close when I saw you in ‘Bukuro."

 

Izaya snorted into his glass and placed it back on the table. “Are you really expecting m-me to make small talk?”

 

“Just askin’,” Shizuo replied, shrugging. “She was pretty aggressive toward me. Thought you might like her - she seems to care about you.” 

 

"What makes you think I have time or want to pander to a lover?" he sighed, lips pulling down into a frown. 

 

The beast shrugged and placed another forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. "To be perfectly honest, I always thought you would be with someone for personal gain rather than love. Don't look at me like that, you know what I mean."

 

Izaya stared at the redhead incredulously. "Do you r-really think so little of me?"

 

Shizuo shook his head frantically and held up a hand. All he could think about were the things Vorona had said a few days ago -  _ he is not capable of the love he proclaims _ . "No, no! That's not what I meant, I-"

 

"You think I'm incapable of affection?"

 

"Well, I don't know!" he answered, voice raising slightly. "Have you ever really liked someone?"

 

As soon as the question left his lips, Shizuo regretted it. Izaya fixed his gaze for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. Slowly, he drew in a breath and took a sip of whiskey. The liquid tasted sour when mixed with the truth that threatened to leave his lips and he quickly settled his glass back on the table. Casting aside all rational thought, all sense, all dignity, he spoke.

 

"You," he said, seriously. "I liked you. But you ruined that, didn’t you Sh-Shizu-chan?"

 

Shizuo stiffened and the colour drained from his face. Ruined it, of course he’d ruined it, he’d beaten the small creature in front of him within an inch of his life. Izaya rested his chin on his palm and inclined his head slightly, watching Shizuo’s face to observe his reaction. The informant recognised the look on the other man’s face from all those years ago, when he had smiled at him and kissed him. It was one of bewilderment and slight anger at his own confusion. He saw it again when Shizuo had stopped him from saying their relationship was anything more than 'enemies', when he’d shoved his foot against his head and slammed him into a dumpster. Shizuo looked back up at him, blinked and suddenly, the confusion had gone. It was as if his thoughts had cleared, as if something in his head clicked and made sense at last. Izaya’s heart began to flutter, his stomach turned and he could not look away.

 

“I’m too warm, gonna go outside for fresh air,” Izaya announced, startled enough by his own thoughts that he needed to be alone. 

 

The redhead looked down at his food as Izaya stood up and began to hobble toward the balcony, picking up his cane on the way. He didn’t go out there that often, which was a shame because  the cityscape was beautiful from the height of his penthouse. Izaya leaned against the railings of the balcony, holding his glass between his fingers. He smiled as he watched the ant-like cars crawling along the far-away roads. From up here, all troubles seemed as distant as the headlights that faded into the mountains on the outskirts of the city. The man raised his glass and finished the dregs of his drink. These nights with Shizuo were getting easier and easier to deal with. Things were growing casual, uncomfortably so. His thoughts drifted to the beast and his smile dropped. The first time around he’d admonished himself for trying to ignore his feelings and tried to confront them head on - which led to him almost getting killed. This time things should be different, shouldn’t they? The beast beat him half to death, that alone should be enough to send him running for the hills. On top of that, the raw fear of rejection still burned strong - he couldn’t deal with that again. Then why did his stomach fill with butterflies when Shizuo smirked at him? Why did he dream about him? Why couldn't he put a bullet in his the other man’s brain? What a mess. The sound of a cork popping from a bottle came from inside. Izaya closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the feel of the cool wind on his skin. He tried to clear his thoughts, breathing deeply. The alcohol created a pleasant warmth beneath his skin - he would have to make note of the brand.

 

Shizuo moved silently out of the apartment onto the balcony, gaze focused on the informant. In one hand he held the uncorked bottle of whiskey, his glass in the other. His eyes flicked up and down Izaya’s body as he neared him, a pleased grin spreading over his lips. The flea seemed calm, he accepted the offer of food and drink - perhaps these were good signs? The redhead took a large sip from his own glass and the alcohol rushed straight to his head. He quietly moved behind Izaya and placed his arms on either side of him, leaning against the railing. The smaller man stiffened and his body arched away from Shizuo, much to his pleasure. He leaned forward, speaking close and hushed in the informant’s ear.

 

"D’you want another drink?" he asked, softly. He smirked when Izaya shivered at the feeling of his breath on his neck.

 

Izaya blinked and drew in a shaky breath. The beast wasn't playing fair, this was entirely inappropriate. His heart pounded harder and he felt his cheeks flush. The other man’s body was so close he could feel his warmth up the length of his back through his thin jumper. He turned slowly, expecting Shizuo to move back. He didn't. Instead, Izaya was still trapped between his arms, the beast’s tall form leaning over him. He pressed him self as far back into the railings as possible, unsure if the way his breath quickened was due to panic or anticipation. Shizuo started to move closer, so he held up his empty glass and pressed his knuckles into his chest until he was forced to stop. The larger man looked down at his hand, then back to his reddened face and raised an eyebrow.

 

"Y-yes," he answered, gesturing to the empty glass. "Another."

 

The man smirked. "Are you alright? You look sweaty."

 

Izaya scowled at him. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. "I'm f-fine. I was trying to enjoy the view."

 

Shizuo took the glass from his hand and started to fill it with the bright amber liquid. Izaya glanced at him while he was looking at the whiskey. Smug satisfaction was the predominant expression on his face, which irked him greatly. The beast looked back up and handed him back the filled glass. Their eyes met for a moment. Long enough for Shizuo to lose a grip on his self control. He reached forward and placed his hands on the side of Izaya’s head, cradling his jaw gently.

 

"What-?"

 

Izaya was cut off when Shizuo pressed his lips against his. He stood stock still at first, shocked by his sudden actions. The informant closed his eyes  - he shouldn’t have been surprised, Shizuo had already kissed him a number of times since his return. Izaya couldn’t remember if he ever told him to stop. His lips were gentle, they moved slowly as if imploring him to react. The brunette clenched his glass tighter and placed his other hand against the beast’s chest, prepared to push him back. But, during the movement of kiss, a half-whispered sound fell from between their lips.

 

"Please," Shizuo breathed. It was so quiet, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Izaya.”

 

Shizuo felt his stomach twist when he felt the hand against his chest move up to hold the back of his neck and Izaya began to kiss him back. Something hot and wet dripped smeared against his cheek as their faces moved from side to side. He opened his eyes to see Izaya’s squeezed tightly shut. Tears leaked from between his eyelids and down between their skin. Eventually, the informant ended the kiss and they pressed their foreheads together. Shizuo dropped his hands from the other man’s head to his shoulders, stroking known sensitive spots on the way. They stared each other down, both gazes filled with anger.

 

"I hate you," Izaya whimpered, weakly. It was true - he hated him for making him doubt himself, for shining a light on how weak he was, for being the one who defeated him. The hand on the back of Shizuo’s neck slid up and his fingers twisted into the red hair.

 

Shizuo growled under his breath and kissed him roughly. One of his hands wound around Izaya’s waist and settled at the small of his back whilst the other snuck across his collarbone and his fingers gripped his thin throat firmly.

 

"I hate you too," he groaned. It was true - he hated how he always made him lose control, how he saw through his mask of calm so easily. He pulled the informant closer and the glass in his hand fell to the floor, shattering around their feet.

 

Izaya stared up at him with wide eyes, the sound of breaking glass forcing him back to reality. Shizuo’s grip on his body loosened when he felt the other man shudder. The informant became aware of fresh tears roll down his cheeks and he began to cry harder when Shizuo softly wiped them away with his thumb. He  _ hated  _ crying, especially in front of other people. The beast pulled him closer again, so that his head rested against his chest and his arms were able to wind around his shoulders. Izaya wept noisily, dampening his shirt and began to pound his fists softly against his chest.

 

"This isn't f-fair," he whispered, squeezing his dark eyes shut. "This isn't right. What do I do? What the f-fuck am I supposed to do?"

 

"I don't know," Shizuo smoothed a hand up and down his back, uncertain of what to do. He wasn't used to this feeling, this odd burning in his chest. What it was, he still couldn't say. “But perhaps being honest would do us both good for once.”

 

Izaya's rhythmic pounding on his chest grew harder, but he didn't stop his soothing action on his back. Eventually he stilled and his hands rested limply on Shizuo’s pectorals. The informant looked up at him, his eyes red and swollen.

 

"I don't hate y-you," he stated, bluntly. God, how he wished he could, he thought to himself, how much he wished he could.

 

Shizuo’s eyes widened in surprise but considered the other man’s admission carefully, letting them sink in for consideration before reacting. He didn't feel saddened by the words and the odd burning in his chest didn't cease. He nodded. "I don't hate you either."

 

Izaya observed him silently. His hands dropped from his chest and Shizuo took a step back, creating space between them. The shattered glass crunched beneath his shoes. The informant shivered, the cold air hitting him as the warmth of the other man moved away. He wrapped his arms around his torso and kept his gaze focused on the floor. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel panicked but rather at ease. Perhaps peace came with honesty, he thought to himself. He’d never really been a fan of peace. 

 


	19. Bang, bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Well, here we go. A fair few chapters left but we're in sight of the end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

_Shinra had no place to judge, God knows he wasn't the most upstanding citizen, but he hated it when his friends fought. The doctor had been dealing with their rivalry since high-school and though he used to find it amusing, their fights were now more of a bother. They were at it again, this time brawling around his living room. Shizuo still had an IV cannula jammed in his arm and the tube connected to it was flicking around like a whip as he tried to catch the other man or land a punch on him. The beast was already wounded from one of their usual street fights, from four flick-knives embedded in his back. The stab wounds were bleeding and needed stitching but Shizuo barely seemed to feel them. Shinra had been preparing to sew him back together when, of course, Izaya just had to antagonise him further by following him to the doctor’s apartment. Celty was out on a job and he himself possessed neither the strength nor will to stop them, so he just sat on the sofa drinking a glass of wine as the whirlwind raged around him. The pair never touched him, they never did, he was the eye of the storm._

 

_“Come on, monster!” Izaya laughed, vaulting over Shinra’s head to land on the coffee table. “You can do better than that, can’t you?”_

 

_“Iz-a-ya,”he snarled, stepping on the sofa cushions to try and reach him._

 

_“Hey, feet off the sofa!” Shinra called, frowning._

 

_Shizuo lunged forward and swiped with his arms but the smaller man was already gone, disappeared to the other side of the room. He grunted and fell, body slamming into the coffee table hard enough for it to collapse beneath him. Izaya chuckled and ran across the back of the sofa, bounced on the cushions and landed on Shizuo’s back._

 

_“Feet off the sofa!” Shinra snapped again, with a sigh._

 

_“Oops, sorry Shinra,” Izaya chuckled, not sounding apologetic at all. He jumped up and down on Shizuo’s back a couple of times, then dug the toe of his shoe into one of the stab wounds._

 

_The blonde growled, though it broke in obvious pain. He pushed himself up, throwing Izaya backwards onto the sofa beside Shinra. The dark haired man snickered and stretched his arms out behind the doctor, sighing dramatically. Shizuo turned around and glared at him, breathing heavily, fists clenched._

 

_“You’re fuckin’ dead!” he barked, rolling one shoulder beneath a hand. He cricked his neck to one side and Shinra winced at the sound of his bones crunching. “I’ll kill you, you little shit-”_

 

_“Shizuo,” the bespectacled man groaned, placing a hand on his forehead. “Please don’t destroy my apartment.”_

 

_“Oh Shinra, you won’t get through to an animal like Shizu-chan using words,” Izaya said, tilting his head to one side. He gave the blonde a nasty smile. “Monsters like him only understand violence.”_

 

_“Izaya,” the doctor warned, glancing at the blonde who was flushing a deep shade of purple._

 

_The smaller man laughed lightly and turned his head to look at his friend. “What? It’s not l-”_

 

_He was cut off when Shizuo’s hand wrapped around his collar and he was dragged off the sofa into the air. Izaya carried on giggling maniacally as the blonde drew him off the floor and held him at eye-level, his legs kicking in the air. Izaya shoved his knee into Shizuo’s stomach, once, twice hard enough for the other man to fall to the floor. The beast kept his fist around the other’s shirt and dragged him down with him. The two men crashed down and Shinra let out a groan._

 

_“Oh Celty, I wish you were here,” he sighed, leaning back into the sofa cushions. He looked back at his friends to see Izaya now straddling Shizuo’s waist, a flick-knife in his hand._

 

_Izaya was violent in a clever way, Shinra thought, he never initiated. He waited until his opponent made the first move then he would lash out with greater speed, greater violence. He wanted to make it clear that he was playing fair, he was provoked. Fair, he mused, yeah right - Izaya always played by unfair rules, rules he made up himself. The dark-haired man bent at the waist and held the point of the knife against the other man’s forehead, digging the metal painfully into his skin. He smiled lightly but his gaze was cold. Shinra had always been blinded by Izaya’s brightness, his brilliance, he was one of two humans who managed to make him feel that way, the other being Shizuo. But these days his view had changed. It was not brightness, quite the opposite in fact. Izaya was a black hole now, stark, cold, darkness. He was a being that drained everything around him._

 

_“You gonna play nice, monster?” he asked, softly._

 

_Shizuo grinned widely and Shinra noticed the way that Izaya’s smirk faltered momentarily. “Fuck you, flea.”_

 

_Izaya scowled and pressed the knife against the blonde’s chest. Before he could move further, Shizuo lurched forward, gritting his teeth to deal with the way the knife slid into his pectoral, and pushed Izaya backward onto the floor. He smashed the smaller man’s wrist into the floor and he straddled him, taking a moment to pull the knife out of his chest. The wound was shallow, barely a scratch to someone like Shizuo. Blind fury was written across the beast’s face and finally panic started to affect Izaya. Shinra watched his friend’s face carefully - the way his lips turned downward and the muscle beneath his eye twitched were telling. The brunette’s hand shot out and dug underneath the other’s ribs, fingers tearing into the open wound. Shizuo let out a whine and laid a hand over Izaya’s throat, strong fingers clenching tightly. Izaya let out a loud hiss and his legs started kicking aimlessly, trying to shake the other man off. He twisted his fingers harder into the bleeding wound, nail tearing it open wider. Shizuo bared his teeth and the knife fell out from between his fingers onto the floor. The smaller man let out a harsh gasp when the hand around his throat tightened. One of his arms flailed out to the side until he managed to retrieve the fallen knife, which he swiftly held against Shizuo’s neck. The point sliced into his skin enough to draw blood. With one choking and the other bleeding profusely, they looked on the verge of killing one another._

 

_“Will you two stop it!” Shinra shouted, setting his wine glass down on the small table beside the sofa. He stood up and took a few steps toward his warring friends, crossing his arms over his chest. Shizuo and Izaya paused their movements, heads turning to look at Shinra as best they could. Both of their eyes were wide, angry, as if Shinra’s voice had broken the atmosphere between them._

 

_“Calm down,” Shinra ordered, frowning. “Get off each other, go sit at opposite ends of the sofa. Now.”_

 

_A couple of minutes passed, the only sound filling the room was laboured panting from the pair. Eventually, Izaya lowered the knife and removed his bloody fingers from the wound. Shizuo hesitated a moment longer, but eventually released the other man’s neck. He clicked his tongue and pushed himself up off the floor so that he could sit on the end of the sofa as directed by Shinra._

 

_“Fuckin’ flea,” he grumbled, pressing a hand against the stab wound on his chest. He glared at the doctor, who was now sat beside him searching through his bag of medical supplies. “Why won’t you just let me kill him?”_

 

_Shinra sighed and took hold of Shizuo’s arm so that he could remove the cannula that was still in the curve of his elbow. The blonde didn’t need any painkillers after all, so there was no point in administering a drip. After he had removed the valve and taped up the small hole, he started to prepare the surgical thread for suturing the stab wounds._

 

_“Because I’ve not given up hope that one day you’ll be friends,” Shinra replied, cheerily. He stood up and prodded Shizuo’s arm. “Lie down please, take your shirt - well, what’s left of your shirt - off.”_

 

_Izaya scoffed behind him and Shinra turned to see him sitting crossed-legged on the floor, carelessly flicking his knife open and shut. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, Shinra.”_

 

_“Yeah,” Shizuo grunted, swinging his legs around so that he could lie flat on the sofa. He pulled off his tattered, blood-stained shirt and glared at Izaya, who returned the vicious look with a chuckle. “I’d rather cut off my own legs.”_

 

_“Hmm, I don’t know,” the doctor mused, taking out an antiseptic wipe so that he could clean the wound on the blonde’s chest. He frowned - Izaya had made quite the mess of it, he could see where the man had scraped his fingernails against the skin. “You two are already agreeing with each other, see? Won’t be long now until you’re having sleepovers.”_

 

_The enemies both laughed derisively then caught the other’s eye and shut their mouths. Shinra smiled - they were more alike than they cared to admit. He had faith in his assumption, he’d been friends with both of them for a long time and he had a feeling that he understood their minds better than they did themselves. Shizuo, the one-man army who hated the way he lost control of himself and allowed his body to be broken as recompense for his own monstrosity. Izaya, the shadowy information broker who played puppet master with the humans he proclaimed to love so dearly, who was clearly desperate to be loved in return. They were a strange, lonely pair. Shinra guessed that they secretly enjoyed their fights - in those moments Shizuo could be as brutal and unbridled as he wanted, Izaya could play as many nasty little games as he pleased. They were a good match for one another._

 

_“Shut up Shinra,” Izaya sighed, stabbing the flick knife into the broken coffee table. “As if I’d ever be friends with a disgusting animal like that.”_

 

_“I’m gonna kill him,” Shizuo stated, bluntly. Shinra pressed the antiseptic wipe against his chest to stop him from moving. The blonde hissed at the stinging sensation and relaxed back against the sofa._

 

_“Oh no you don’t,” the doctor hummed, cleaning the wound deftly. He took up the sterile needle and surgical thread and tapped on Shizuo’s sternum. “Keep still okay? This might hurt.”_

 

_“Yeah, I will,” Shizuo sighed. His brow furrowed as Shinra pushed the needle through the torn skin and began to stitch the wound back closed._

 

_“A little needle like that?” Izaya snorted, ripping the knife back out of the wound. He stood, flicking the blade closed, and moved behind the sofa. Smirking, he leaned down on the backrest so he could peer down at his enemy. The blonde glared up at him angrily, a vein visibly throbbing in his forehead. He was tense due to a mixture of pain and restrained rage, which Izaya found most amusing. “It takes a much sharper point to hurt you, doesn’t it, Shizu-chan?”_

 

_“Stop calling me that,” Shizuo muttered. “You want me to break your neck?”_

 

_Shinra looked up at his patient and tutted. “Keep still.”_

 

_The information broker chuckled darkly and inclined his head slightly, a sneer rising on his face. He flicked open his knife and held it against the soft skin between Shizuo’s shoulder and pectoral muscle. “A sharper point like this, perhaps?”_

 

_Shinra sat upright and grabbed ahold of Izaya’s wrist before he could push the knife into the other man. He gave him a glare in warning and shook his head. “Stop it, go sit at the dining room table.”_

 

_“Shinra,” Izaya whined. He held the doctor’s unusually stern gaze for a moment, then smiled lazily and stood upright, letting the knife fall flat onto Shizuo’s chest. “Fine, fine. I don’t know why you’re so keen on keeping him alive. I suppose it’s so you can study him or something?”_

 

_The bespectacled man shook his head and moved the knife onto the floor so that he could continue the stitching. The informant let out a dramatic sigh and waltzed across the room so he could lounge by the dining table as ordered. Shizuo’s face was a deep shade of red and he was trembling from the effort of holding himself back. Shinra gave him a smile and patted his shoulder before returning to the stab wound. “It’s because he’s my friend, Izaya.”_

 

_Shizuo let out a breath and returned the smile, though his was somewhat strained. “Thanks, Shin- ah, fuck that stings.”_

 

_“Stupid monster,” Izaya murmured. He reached into the pocket of his fur-lined jacket, which was folded over the back of the chair he was sat on, and retrieved his phone._

 

_The three men sat in silence for a while - Izaya playing on his phone, Shizuo gritting his teeth and Shinra carefully stitching each stab wound. When all four were neatly repaired, the doctor leaned back and let out a satisfied sigh._

 

_“All done!” he said, cheerily. He stood and packed away his supplies, then made his way over to Izaya. “Okay, let me take a look at you, my dear Orihara.”_

 

_The informant raised a brow. “Don’t let Celty hear you call me 'dear', she might get jealous.”_

 

_“As if,” Shizuo sneered, standing. He placed his hands in his pockets and fished out a cigarette. “What kinda weirdo would find you attractive?”_

 

_Izaya grinned. “Good thing I like weird.”_

 

_The blonde let out a noise of disgust and lit the cigarette. “Shinra, I need to borrow a t-shirt, that okay?”_

 

_“Yeah, yeah,” the doctor replied, waving his hand toward the bedroom. “Second drawer down. Just keep it, I’m sure you’ll just stretch it.”_

 

_“Cheers,” he replied, heading toward the door to the other room._

 

_Izaya glowered at Shizuo until he was out of sight. Shinra smiled and sat in the chair next to him. The informant was such a strange creature, he thought to himself, he had such fanciful reasons for hating Shizuo. If he just looked at things simpler their rivalry might not be so vicious._

 

_“Let me see your neck,” he said, pulling his chair closer._

 

_The informant looked at him blankly for a moment, then turned his head to the side. There were dark bruises already blossoming in a band around the pale throat, left by Shizuo’s stranglehold. It must have hurt, he could see the shape of the other man’s fingers embedded in the skin._

 

_“Jeez, Izaya,” Shinra said, frowning. “You two need to stop fighting, this is getting ridiculous.”_

 

_The other man chuckled darkly and lowered his chin so that he could look his friend in the eye. There was a dangerous shine to his gaze and when he smiled, he showed a line of white teeth.“This fight won’t end until one of us is dead. That’s just the way things have to be.”_

 

_Shinra shook his head and pressed down on the bruise firmly, enough to make the informant squeal and jump back. “You’re both idiots.”_

 

_-0-_

 

_“In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them.... I destroy them.”_

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Shizuo asked.

 

The smaller man looked up at him and upon finding no answers from his head, he went with his gut. He shook his head. “No, I want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

 

Shizuo nodded and gestured to the balcony door. “Yeah. Go inside, flea. You look fuckin’ freezing.”

 

The informant nodded reached out to grab his walking stick. He moved back into the living room and sat back at his desk as Shizuo slid the glass door shut behind them. The beast carried on walking toward the kitchen, pausing only to settle the whiskey bottle on the desk in front of Izaya.

 

“Shizu-chan?” he called, curiously. An odd pang hit him - was he leaving after all? “Where are y-you going?”

 

The redhead re-appeared and walked back over to the desk, holding up a fresh glass. “You smashed the last one. Thought you might want another drink, so-”

 

“Oh,” he replied, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly from embarrassment. Shizuo placed the glass down in front of him and started to refill their drinks as he sat down on the opposite side of the desk. Izaya smirked and leaned his cheek against his palm. “You don’t wear your bartender’s uniform an-anymore.”

 

Shizuo nodded and took a sip of his drink. “I outgrew it. Plus, Kasuka bought me some new clothes.”

 

“And you dyed your hair,” Izaya noted, moving his bowl back toward him. He slowly started to eat. Although the eggs were cold now and, if he was honest - a little over-salted, he enjoyed them.

 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, running his hands through his hair. “I wanted to blend into the crowd a bit more.”

 

“Why?” the informant asked, raising a brow.

 

“I didn’t want to be the ‘Strongest Man in Ikebukuro’, anymore. After everythin’ that happened with you and the Dollars and shit, people started avoidin’ me more than usual. They’d cross the street so they wouldn’t have to walk by and would hide their eyes like I was the monster you always claimed I was, right? I said I hated violence but I kept up the persona, the look, for such a long time. After all that happened, keepin’ the street cred seemed dumb,” the beast took another gulp of whiskey and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and began to raise his lighter when he remembered where he was. “Ah, sorry-”

 

“It’s f-fine, go ahead,” Izaya sighed. He reached into a drawer beside him to find the glass ash-tray he used every now and then. It was a heavy item and the angle at which he picked it up sent a twinge of pain up his arm. With a hiss, he dropped the ash-tray in front of Shizuo and drew his hand back so that he could flex his wrist.

 

“You okay?” Shizuo asked, frowning.

 

“Yes Shizu-chan, I’m f-fine,” he answered, lips curving into a smirk. He nodded toward the other man’s head. “For the record, I like it better than the blonde.”

 

Shizuo flushed a deep shade of scarlet, much to the informant’s amusement. He stood clumsily and picked up the two empty bowls. “Uh, thanks. I’ll jus’ go put these in the sink.”

 

“I have a dishwasher,” Izaya called, as the other man disappeared into the kitchen. He reached across the table for the bottle but accidentally nudged it off the edge, where it fell to the carpet with a dull thud. Sighing irritably, the informant stood and held onto the desk as he moved to pick it up. Luckily nothing had spilt. He picked up the bottle and leaned against the side of the desk, uncorking it so that he could take a small sip. A pleasant warmth was starting to build in his chest.

 

“Fancy fucking place you’ve got here,” came Shizuo’s voice. Izaya turned his head to see the blonde approaching, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Must’ve cost a shit-load.”

 

“Sure did,” he replied, smirking. He swallowed nervously when Shizuo stopped in a few feet in front of him. The smell of smoke and the heat of the whiskey were already making him dizzy and the close proximity of the other man only enhanced it. “Give m-my compliments to Kasuka. He has good taste.”

 

Shizuo smiled softly, as he always did when speaking about his brother. “I will.”

 

“So,” Izaya said, after a pause. “What now?”

 

The redhead took a final drag of his cigarette and stepped closer to Izaya so that he could reach behind him to stab the filter into the ashtray. The informant clenched the edge of the desk with both his hands and looked up at the other man, who was now so close that their noses were brushing and one of Shizuo’s legs was pushing between Izaya’s. Shizuo grinned and Izaya felt his cheeks flush with heat. The redhead leaned forward and pressed his lips against the other man’s, letting out a satisfied sigh into his mouth. Izaya’s eyes fluttered shut and he raised a hand to settle gently on Shizuo’s hip. The other man seemed to take that as a sign to continue, so he pushed Izaya backward, pulling him up so that he was sat on the desk. Shizuo moved between his legs and wrapped one arm around the informant’s back, fingers crawling upward so that they could rest in his hair.

 

Izaya groaned when he felt fingers tugging the dark strands gently and he arched forward, thighs clenching around Shizuo’s hips. The beast smelled the same as he always did, he sounded the same but the kiss felt entirely different than the first time round. There was a desperation behind his actions, he was gentler, careful. Izaya found that he didn’t mind the restraint, he liked the softness. Though he could feel the same brutal strength trembling in Shizuo’s restrained muscles, this wasn’t the monster who almost killed him. There was no sign of rejection in that moment but Izaya was still cautious - he would have to see what happened in the morning to be sure. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss and he jammed his tongue into the warmth of the other man’s mouth. His free hand wrapped around the side of the redhead’s neck, an action which earned him a pleasing shudder. Hastily, he unbuttoned Shizuo’s shirt and pushed it roughly off his shoulders. He wanted skin, he wanted to feel the warmth he would finally admit that he missed. Shizuo pushed him back over the desk and Izaya unsteadily propped himself up with the heel of his hand.

 

“Izaya,” the redhead breathed, before leaning forward to kiss him again. Izaya’s arm collapsed slightly under the weight of their bodies and he fell back onto his elbow.

 

Shizuo shoved the informant further up the table so he could lay him flat and he leaned over him, grabbing fistful of his black shirt. Izaya arched into him and moved one hand into his red hair, twisting it roughly between his fingers. Somewhere between these actions, a number of items on the desk were knocked onto the floor. An odd sound caused Shizuo to pause and he leaned back on his forearms, head turning toward the front door.

 

“You hear that?” he asked, glancing down at Izaya.

 

The informant raised a brow and sat up, grabbing Shizuo’s collar in his hand. “Hear what?”

 

Shizuo held up a hand to silence him and remained stock still, listening. He stood upright, untangling his body from Izaya. The smaller man sighed deeply, annoyed by the sudden distraction.

 

“I heard something,” Shizuo said, frowning. He looked down and saw the bottle laying on the floor by the armchair. A few papers had fallen too. He leaned down to pick up the bottle and noticed something poking out from beneath one of the files. The man reached forward and, from underneath the paper, he pulled out the gun. The silencer was warm.

 

Then there was a loud thump from outside the front door.

 

“Shizu-chan?” Izaya called, sitting upright on the desk. “What the f-fuck was that?”

 

Shizuo turned his head and held up a finger, pointing at the front door. There were a number of cracks in the wood, all leading to a small hole. Izaya always left the safety off. He rose from the floor, holding the gun tightly in his hand. “Stay there.”

 

“What’s going on?” the informant asked, pursing his lips.

 

The redhead crossed the room hastily and tried the doorknob. It was still locked so he undid the latch and pulled the door open. The first thing he saw were the three small packages on the floor by his feet, boxes wrapped in shiny red Christmas paper. Next to them, a set of keys. His gaze eventually rested on the other side of the outside corridor, where a figure was slouching. There was blood all over the floor and the wall behind the figure. The person raised their head and Shizuo recognised her as Namie Yagiri. She blinked back at him, her eyes wide and unusually frightened. Her gaze dipped to the gun in his hand and she groaned, clasping her chest tighter. The woman wavered and Shizuo lunged forward to catch her and lower her gently to her knees.

 

“Heiwajima,” she murmured, softly.

 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he mumbled, leaning her back against the wall. He opened her trench coat and saw a gunshot wound marring the left side of her chest. Blood was spreading rapidly across her torso, seeping through the thick cream jumper she was wearing. “Oh God, shit-”

 

“What...did you do?” Namie said, brows knitting together. She raised her head slightly and when she spoke blood dribbled out of her mouth. “...’zaya.”

 

The woman’s head lolled forward onto Shizuo’s shoulder and he raised his hand, resting it in the back of her hair. For a moment he was too shocked to move, too disturbed by the quantity of blood. It was a sight he hadn’t seen for a long time. It was only when Namie spoke again that he was jerked out of bewilderment. She spat and a mixture of blood and saliva dripped onto his trousers. When she raised her head, her eyes were narrowed and her teeth were grit in anger and pain. Her bloody fingers rested on the bare skin of his chest and her nails dug in hard enough for him to wince.

 

“‘f you - ngh, if you’ve hurt him,” she gasped, brows knitting together. “I’ll fucking kill you.”


	20. Full of sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a quick chapter. This was part of a much longer chapter but it got too long, so I'm splitting it up. The next chapter is still much longer so I'm considering cutting it up further, gah. Hope you enjoy.

_ There was only one time, that Izaya could remember, before the stabbing incident when they didn’t fight. It was Shinra’s twenty-first birthday and he invited a number of friends to his apartment for a party. At first the informant didn’t think he would go, he was busy with work and for all his talk of loving humans he wasn’t much one for socialising. However, after watching the clock tick by in his office for forty minutes, he found himself stood outside Shinra and Celty’s front door, listening to the hubbub from inside. With a sigh, he raised his hand and rapped three times on the door. It swung open almost immediately and he was greeted with the sound of music, a wave of heat and the yellow helmet of the Dullahan. For once she wasn't wearing her usual leather catsuit but rather a floaty green dress. It was strange to see her dressed up like that. If it weren't for the helmet and the abnormal pallor of her skin, one might have thought she was human.  _

 

_ She held up her PDA. ‘Izaya. I didn’t think you would actually come.’ _

 

_ “Yeah, well. Here I am,” he replied, smirking. She was as standoffish as ever. “You're looking a lot less monstrous than usual.”  _

 

_ ‘Gee, thanks,’ Celty answered, shrugging. She ushered him inside. ‘Shinra will be so pleased to see you!’ _

 

_ “Do all these people know you're the Black Rider?” he asked, amused. “Seems a bit risky, doesn't it? Frolicking about in the public eye.”  _

 

_ Celty shook her helmet and typed out something swiftly before raising it to his eye level. ‘Well you know Shinra would shout to the heavens about my being a Dullahan but I thought that was a little dangerous - word spreads, y’know? So Shinra made up some idiot lie about me having some facial deformity that I want to hide. All a bit far-fetched to me but it seems young, drunk adults will believe anything’. _

 

_ “You're right on that, my dear Dullahan,” he said, smile widening.  _

 

_ ‘Personally I thought the facial deformity thing was a bit distasteful. Anyway, come in!’  _

 

_ The informant chuckled and shut the door behind him. Immediately, his eyes were darting about the room, taking in the people, the details, all the information that was readily available to him. The room was full to bursting with people, some he recognised, others he didn't. Kadota and his oddball crew were standing by the windows, halfway through chugging beers. Others were stood in groups talking and by the hazy eyes and lopsided smiles, most were tipsy. The apartment lights were off and the room was instead lit by a number of coloured lamps that had been set up in various places. A big punch bowl was on the coffee table in the centre of the sofas, surrounded by a number of other bottles and cans.  _

 

_ “Izaya!”  _

 

_ He turned slightly to the right to see Shinra speeding toward him. The doctor smiled cheerily and wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. The alcohol was heavy on his breath and Izaya noted the flush over his cheeks.  _

 

_ “Shinra, are you drunk?” he asked, shaking his head. He pried the other man off him, an amused smile on his face.  _

 

_ “Uh huh. Drunk as a skunk! Here,” Shinra replied, nodding feverishly. He shoved a paper cup filled with a strange purple liquid into Izaya’s hand. “You can have this, I just poured it.” _

 

_ Izaya wrinkled his nose but, after further goading from Shinra, he took a sip of the beverage. It was a foul, overly sweet cocktail which had an intensely sharp bite of alcohol when it trickled down his throat. He spluttered loudly and nearly gagged. “Jeez Shinra, what the fuck is this?” _

 

_ “Uhh - grape juice, lemonade, peach schnapps,” he listed, holding up a finger with each ingredient. “Oh and tequila and vodka and red wine. Celty made it! Isn’t it delicious?” _

 

_ The informant wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve and grimaced. He nodded, knowing better than to badmouth Celty in any way when Shinra was intoxicated. He gestured to the fairly large crowd packed into their apartment and smirked.  _

 

_ “Big crowd, huh?” he commented. “How many of them are hired?”  _

 

_ “Oh shut it,” Shinra laughed, happily. He hiccuped loudly and swayed slightly on his feet, enough that Izaya offered him his arm. He took it and stabilised himself, then gave the other man a wide grin. “Th-hic-thanks! They’re not exactly friends, but I do have -hic!- a lot of acquaintances. Celty said I should try to make more friends by having a big party so - hic!- here we are. I probably won't speak to any of them after this. But I'm happy to have my two proper friends here, now that you’ve arrived.” _

 

_ Izaya frowned. “Two?” _

 

_ As if on cue, a heavy weight slammed down on his shoulder. The informant looked down to see a hand and when he turned to follow up the arm that it was attached to he was greeted with a familiar smirk. There was a cigarette hanging from his lips, right close to Izaya’s face. His blood ran cold as a fist headed straight for his face. He was too close to dodge the punch, so he screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Fortunately, it never came. When he opened his eyes Shinra was clinging to the halted fist. Shizuo was scowling at the doctor and lifted him off the ground, shaking him back and forth gently. Shinra was giggling manically and clung tighter to the strong forearm, kicking his legs wildly in the air.  _

 

_ “Oi, let go,” Shizuo growled, moving the doctor back and forth a little harder.  _

 

_ Shinra squealed and shook his head. “Nope! Not unless you promise to be - hic!- civil with one another!”  _

 

_ “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” Izaya sneered, placing his hands into his jacket pockets. His hand closed around his flick knife.  _

 

_ “C’mon guys,” Shinra sighed, letting go of Shizuo’s arm. He dropped back down to the floor and looked dejectedly at both of them. “It’s my birthday. Make this my present.” _

 

_ Shizuo glared at Izaya and took a drag of the cigarette between his lips. After a moment, he grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can try to keep my temper if he makes an effort not to piss me off.” _

 

_ Shinra looked back at Izaya expectantly, eyes wide and shiny behind his glasses. The informant raised a brow and shrugged.  _

 

_ “Fine, fine,” he agreed, releasing the flick knife so he could wave his hand at Shinra. “Just for tonight, Shinra. But this means I’m not getting you those chemicals you requested for a birthday gift.”  _

 

_ The doctor squealed in delight and clapped his hands, jumping up and down slightly. The two enemies looked at one another, both raising a brow.  _

 

_ “Oh thank you!” he exclaimed, delighted to have gotten his way. Excitedly, he pushed the two men into the kitchen, where it was slightly quieter. He pushed a couple of paper cups in their hands and ladled more of Celty’s foul concoction into them. Someone called the doctor’s name from the main room so he darted out of the kitchen and left the pair alone. Izaya pursed his lips and glared into the cup, a look of disgust twisting his features.  _

 

_ “I don’t trust you, flea. And fuck, even lookin’ at you is makin’ me wanna punch you,” the blonde stated, bluntly. He held out his free hand. “But let’s truce for tonight, for Shinra.” _

 

_ Izaya rolled his eyes and placed his hand reluctantly into Shizuo’s. “For Shinra. Don’t think this means I like you or anything, Shizu-chan. We’ll be back to killing each other tomorrow.” _

 

_ A vein pulsed in the blonde’s forehead. “Can’t wait.” _

 

_ Their hands dropped back to their sides. The two enemies stood without speaking for a moment, listening to the music and chatter coming from the main room. Izaya was aching to ram his knife into Shizuo’s throat and he didn’t doubt the beast was thinking similar thoughts about him. Eventually, the silence was broken by the sound of the blonde hissing. Izaya snorted - he knew exactly what caused that reaction.  _

 

_ “This stuff is shit,” Shizuo grumbled, after taking a sip. “Jeez, what the fuck was she thinking?” _

 

_ “I know,” Izaya replied, hissing as he took another gulp. It was nasty but he was already feeling the effect - his vision was blurring around the edges and he felt all too warm. “But I'm not telling Shinra, he'd skin anyone who said a bad word about his monstrous girlfriend.”  _

 

_ “Oi, don't call her that.”  _

 

_ “What, girlfriend? Or monster?” _

 

_ “I doubt she’d appreciate either, so just shut up.” _

 

_ Izaya glanced at the blonde, who was now leaning against the kitchen counter. For once, he wasn’t wearing his bartender’s uniform, but rather a navy button-up and a pair of black slacks. It was strange to see him dressed in all-dark colours, it made the blonde hair stand out all the more starkly. The shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing a rather vicious looking gash running from his wrist up beneath the folded cuff. He frowned, trying to remember if he gave him that. It couldn't have been, it looked too fresh and they hadn't fought for about a week.  _

 

_ “What happened to your arm?” he asked, curiously. It was odd speaking so civilly with his arch rival, so he made sure to keep his tone cutting and sarcastic. “Did you try and slit your wrists?”  _

 

_ Shizuo looked down at his arm and shook his head. “Nah, got stabbed on a collection at work and the idiot would let go so it sorta dragged down ‘til I could throw him off.”  _

 

_ The informant shook his head in disbelief. “I do sometimes worry that you might be immortal, Shizu-chan.” _

 

_ “Why would that worry you?” he replied, brows knitting together.  _

 

_ “Because I'd like to kill you someday,” Izaya replied, cheerily. Shizuo glared at him but he ignored it and took another sip of the disgusting drink. “This is basically poison.”  _

 

_ “Well, let's hope it kills you,” Shizuo commented, raising his glass. He turned and started to walk out of the kitchen. “I'm gonna smoke. Let's try not the bump into each other for the rest of the night so I don't have to beat your ass. Later, flea.”  _

 

_ “Later, Shizu-chan.”  _

 

_ The beast let out a grunt when pain shot across his shoulder. When he turned his head to look toward the source he could see a flick knife jutting out of his back. A vein pulsed in his head and he grit his teeth together as he yanked the blade out, crunching the metal in his palm. The now-boomerang shaped knife fell to the floor and he kicked it toward Izaya, who stood with an unwavering grin on his face. The blonde took in a deep breath and let it out, clearly trying to calm himself down. The informant was surprised when the other man simply grunted and carried on walking out of the kitchen.  _

 

_ “I'll kill you tomorrow, flea,” he called back. “I can't be assed with it right now.”  _

 

_ Izaya stared as Shizuo’s back as he disappeared into the crowd. He leaned back against the kitchen table and placed the paper cup on beside him so that he could fold his arms across his chest. With a sigh he pushed himself forward and ducked to pick up his fallen knife. He turned and held it up to the light, turning it back and forth to look at the shine of Shizuo’s blood on the blade. Shinra’s vision of the two enemies turning to friends was nothing more than a pipe-dream, he thought with a chuckle. They would never be peace between them.  _

 

_ “Such a monster,” he laughed, shaking his head.  _

 

-0- 

 

_ ‘It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.’ _

 

Izaya reached onto the floor to retrieve his walking stick and clambered to his feet. He couldn’t see what was going on from that angle, nor could he hear the other man properly. “What the fuck is going on, Sh-Shizu-chan?”

 

The beast tucked his hands under Namie’s knees and wrapped an arm around her back so that he could lift her off the hallway floor. She groaned again and squirmed slightly, clasping her chest. 

 

“Sorry,” Shizuo said, frowning. “C’mon I’ll get you inside - stay awake, okay?”

 

“Fuck...you,” she hissed, her usually strong voice wavering. 

 

Shizuo hurried into the apartment and looked desperately at Izaya. The informant frowned, not certain of the scene before him at first, then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. 

 

“Izaya, call Shinra-”

 

“Namie?” the informant called, alarmed. “W-what?”

 

“She’s been shot,” he replied, hurrying forward. 

 

As Shizuo carried her toward the informant, he took a shaky step forward. His legs didn’t take the strain for long and after two steps the walking stick fell out from underneath him and his legs buckled. He cried out as he was sent crashing to his knees but he never took his gaze away from his secretary. With great effort, he pushed himself onto wobbly legs and forced himself over to where Shizuo had laid her on the sofa. He collapsed back down onto the floor, on his knees beside her head and frantically pushed the trench coat she was wearing off her shoulders as best he could. The cream jumper she was wearing was damp and stained and he cringed when he saw the bullet wound fraying the material. 

 

“Oh fuck, Namie,” he rambled. He motioned to Shizuo who was stood behind the sofa, looking down at them. “Take her jumper off, then g-get some towels. N-need to stop the bleeding.” 

 

The redhead nodded, silently trying to process the scene. His hands and shirt were covered in her blood, he felt sticky and filthy. The last time he had seen this much blood it had been drooling from Izaya’s mouth, splattering against the pavement as he prepared to kill him. He blinked, trying to get rid of the disgusting image. Carefully, he helped Izaya get Namie into a sitting position and he pulled her sweater up over her head, leaving her in a thin blouse and skirt. He lowered her back down and wordlessly handed the gun to Izaya, then ran up the stairs to the bathroom. The informant looked down at the firearm and swallowed thickly. Shaking his head, he dropped the gun and sat up so that he could press his palms down over the bullet wound. The woman cried out in agony and thrashed beneath him but he held fast. 

 

“I'm so sorry, Namie,” Izaya said, through panicked breaths. This was his fault, his fault for not being careful, for not putting the safety on, for having a damn gun in the first place. “Don't die, come on please, you can't die.” 

 

“Idiot,” she croaked, smiling slightly. It was a familiar smile, a nasty, unpleasant smirk that fitted so well on her face. He returned it, glad she was still conscious. The woman grit her teeth together in pain and she let out a few ragged breaths. “Came to...bring..presents.”

 

“You're a stupid bitch, Namie,” he retorted, his voice cracking slightly. Her blood was warming his cold hands. There was so much of it. Too much of it. He took in a shaky breath and tried to keep himself steady, ignoring the images replaying through his mind, images of his own blood splattered across the tarmac of the intersection. 

 

“Don't cry,” she said, lips turning downward. “‘s pathetic.” 

 

The damage was more obvious through the sheer material, but he needed to get through to the bare skin, so Izaya started unbuttoning her shirt, his trembling fingers slipping clumsily over the fastening. He opened it up and tried not to gag at the sight of all the blood. Namie was breathing steadily, eyes focused on the ceiling. Her calm demeanour was due to her medical training - she knew panicking would only worsen her condition. She turned her head to look at the informant, who was starting to look dazed, shaking in shock. Namie needed Izaya needed to be alert and focused if he was going to help her, so she raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. He flinched, jerking out of his daydream and his wild eyes found hers. 

 

“Hit the… clavicle and out the scapula,” she panted, brows furrowing. “May have affected...brachial plexus. Need to see doctor ‘fore… nerve damage..’n..blood loss.” 

 

Izaya nodded, her calmness forcing him to react. When he was on the brink of death, it had been her voice that reeled him back into life, her hands that he felt through the numbness - letting her die was not an option. Quickly he opened up his phone and dialled Shinra’s number. When the doctor answered, he could hear other voices and music in the background. 

 

“Shinra-” 

 

“Hey Izaya! Merry Christmas!” 

 

“I need you here, n-now!” he exclaimed. “Bring medical supplies. P-please hurry, fuck, Shinr-” 

 

The doctor’s playful tone deepened into one more serious. “What? What happened?”

 

“N-Namie’s been shot, in the shoulder or chest or - please I need your help,” he explained, desperately. There was a pause, long enough to cause him concern. “Shinra-”

 

“I'll get Celty to drive me over now,” he stated, tonelessly. “Stop the bleeding, put pressure on the wound. I'll be as fast as I can.”

 

The informant heaved a sigh of relief. “Th-thank you.”

 

“And Izaya?” Shinra added, coldly. “I'll save the rant about guns, your idiocy and how you're ruining my Christmas with Celty for a later date. Just know it's coming.”

 

The phone line went dead just as Shizuo rushed down the stairs with a stack of towels. Izaya caught one as it was thrown at him and he pressed it firmly against the bullet wound, causing Namie to hiss loudly. Her eyes were still open, but they were hazy and her face was draining of colour. The informant tried to focus, he couldn't let himself get panicked, even with all the blood around, all the awful, horrid, stinking blood. His stomach flopped as a violent memory passed through his mind. 

 

“Izaya.”

 

Shizuo’s calm voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see the redhead staring down at him with worry plastered across his face. 

 

“Sh-Shinra is on his way,” he informed the other man. He glanced back down at Namie and stroked her damp hair away from her face with his free hand before placing it next to the other on the towel. The woman raised her own and rested her fingers over Izaya’s. She felt cold. “Can y-you get me some water?” 

 

“Yeah sure,” Shizuo replied, swallowing nervously. 

 

Izaya waited until he was out of the room before resting his head lightly against Namie’s stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to cry. After everything she’d done for him, he thought, why did this have to happen? He felt her hand nestle in his hair and, after that small gesture of comfort, he wept silently into her shirt. If she felt the tears through the material, she didn't mention it. 

 

“I'm sorry, fuck, don't die N-Namie, please,” he begged, voice muffled by her blouse.

 

The secretary let out a shaky breath and winced as pain shot through her shoulder. She could feel the bullet embedded somewhere near her shoulder blade, rubbing against the bone.  “Why is...Heiwajima...here?”

 

Izaya leaned back but kept his grip firm on the towel. He looked at her dejectedly, eyes puffy and red from crying. 

 

“You look ugly when- ngh, you cry,” she rasped, an amused smile pulling up the corner of her lips. 

 

“Heh,” he sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger to get rid of the tears “You told me that before.”

 

“Heiwajima,” she repeated. 

 

The informant looked down, uncertain of how to broach the issue. It didn’t seem right, not while he was trembling and she was bleeding out on his sofa. She was the one who nursed him back to health after all, would she find it offensive that he was allowing the monster into his life after everything that had happened? When he glanced up at her face, still serious and calculating even when wounded, his doubts were cast away. This was Namie - she was an intelligent woman, she had probably already figured everything out. 

 

“Shizuo and I-” he began, pausing. He shook his head softly. “We’ll do this another time, when you're better and you can punch me all you like.” 

 

Namie pursed her lips. “Why’d he...shoot me?” 

 

Izaya chuckled but the sound was strained. “He didn't. It w-was a stupid accident. The gun fell on the floor, the safety was off, you have unfortunate timing.” 

 

The woman’s eyes fluttered shut and she hummed softly, musing his words. “Idiot.”

 

There was a knock at the door and Izaya heard Shizuo running to answer it. He looked down at Namie and tightened his hold on her hand. 

 

“It’s going to be alright,” he breathed. He raised his head to see Shinra, Celty and Shizuo hastening down the corridor toward him. “It’ll be okay.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. All I've ever been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long old chapter this one. Some Izaya-centric storylines here. Next chapter will focus a bit more on Shizuo.

_ He has been truly afraid only three times in his life. The last, when he saw Namie’s pained eyes staring back at him from across the room. The second, when he thought he was going to die at Shizuo’s hand.  _

 

_ Izaya remembered the first time with great clarity. It was the first time he witnessed a truly violent event, something that would affect the way he viewed life and death for years to come. It was the first time he met Shiki. He was still young, fresh out of high-school and was on his way home from buying an important collection of data from a nearby port town. The information now sat on an encrypted USB stick in his pocket.  _

 

_ He stood watching as the fire burned, not too far from the port. The thing that fell from the sky and cracked the ship’s hull was sickly aimed and now he waited, watching the station for any signs that the fire had spread too far. The smoke had attracted many for its strange colour; a strange yellow-amber, with a thick black plume through the middle. It looked as if some gargantuan serpentine creature was staring back at us from the sky, pupils dilating as the crackle of fire and the creaking of expanding metal grew louder. It seemed to be waiting too. He took in a large gulp of air. Contrary to most opinions, Izaya found the smell of smoke satisfying. Maybe that was why he always ran toward it, rather than away.  _

 

_ Small men ran across the docks and the deck of the ship, holding gushing hoses in an attempt to quell the flames that now seemed to be seeping from the portholes in the starboard side. The water around the ship seemed to be boiling and the gentle waves that lapped against the metal hissed into steam. After a while, the cargo hold seemed to bulge out of the side of the hull and the boards on the deck let out a deep groan as they strained upwards. It looked as if a giant steel heart was beating within the hold, pushing and pulsing beneath metal skin. The wrought organ seemed panicked, puckering and pulsing in areas that it should not. Somewhere along the dock, a man yelled that the fire had been extinguished.  _

 

_ “How tiresome,” the well-dressed man sighed from beside him. Izaya glanced sideways at him. He was not the usual type you would find down at the docks but then, he supposed neither was he. He was wearing a light coloured suit and an expensive-looking overcoat. A fine gold chain trailed to the inside of his jacket from the buttonhole of his lapel. There was a ring on his forefinger with an insignia stamped on it but he placed it back in his pocket before Izaya had a chance to recognise it. He looked as if he had stepped out of a gentleman’s club. “One more minute and y’would have been in trouble.” _

 

_ “You think?” Izaya replied, raising a brow. He found the man’s use of the word tiresome rather odd, but decided against raising it. There was something strange about him, about the scars on his face and the way he held himself - for some reason Izaya’s information bank was failing him and he couldn’t place the man’s face. The crowd around them began chattering, some began straining against the ropes that separated them from the sea so that they could get a better look.  _

 

_ “I do,” he said, with a nod. He looked sideways at the younger man, then back at the ship. “What brings you to the docks today?” _

 

_ Izaya opened his mouth to speak, then paused. Why had he come here? He had been walking to the train station when the smoke appeared, he must have been curious as to the cause. He did not remember how long he had been standing there.  _

 

_ “I saw the smoke,” he answered, finally. “What about yourself?” _

 

_ “I just came to observe. This vessel is carrying something of interest,” he said, with a smile. Izaya turned back to look at the ship; there was something off-putting about the gentleman. “This is going to end poorly.” _

 

_ “How’d you figure that?”  _

 

_ The man pointed upward. Izaya followed his direction and once again met the eye of that serpentine beast swimming in the clouds. The man began to speak of chemicals he had never heard of before but he soon lost focus. The eye was watching him, it seemed near-focused on his position on the dock. Izaya felt as if cold water were being poured down his back and he could no longer hear the man over the roar of blood whooshing through his ears. Something about the other, the beyond, both fascinated and terrified him. The pupil of the creature grew wider then thinner and he could not pull himself away. A acrid smell filled his nostrils and forced its way down his throat. The fumes were thick and fresh, he could still hear the crackle of fire and there, in the sky, he could see flecks of red dancing across the surface of the eye.  _

 

_ A wretched shriek rang out across the dockland and drew Izaya’s gaze away from the smoke. People beside him were pointing into the water below the ship, some with their hands over their mouths, others with eyes wide in strange excitement. A frantic splashing was occurring in the water on the starboard. Through the froth and the still-present steam, he saw a pair of hands scratching at the metal. From the way the sailors on the deck of the ship were crying out, he assumed that one of their mates had fallen into the water. The man was shrieking in agony as the water surrounding the ship was still boiling from the residual heat of the fire. The hands were joined momentarily by a head, before sinking below the surface completely. The brief glimpse he saw was enough. The water had mottled the man’s skin, scalding it a bright, scaly red. His features were little more than gaping, black holes in his skull, glimpses of which could been seen through his thinned-out skin. The meat sank out of sight, save for a small pool of watered down blood.  _

 

_ “What a shame,” the gentleman beside him muttered. Izaya turned his head to look at him and noticed that he was checking his watch. “Always focusing on the wrong thing.” _

 

_ “The sailors?” he asked, frowning.  _

 

_ “You, Izaya Orihara. And everyone else, I suppose,” he answered, with a smile. He looked Izaya up and down, then raised a brow. He pointed at the ship again. “See.” _

 

_ Whilst the crowd raved hysterically for the lost man, Izaya glanced back at the ship. The hull was pulsing again and a faint red glow could be seen from between the strained cracks in between the panel. It was only then that he realised the man had called him by his name. He looked beside him to see that he had disappeared. Panic twisted knots in his stomach and sent urgent nerves through his muscles. When he checked his pocket, the USB stick had disappeared too. He understood the strange man’s warning and turned his back on the ship. Where had he gone, he thought. With great struggle, he pushed his way through the crowd, who were clawing their way forward to catch a glimpse of the dead man in the water. As he moved, he didn’t call to them like he should have done. He should have told them to leave but in his anger he couldn’t get the words out. The information couldn’t be lost, his other client would have him dead by morning. Not only that, the ship was going to explode, he was certain. For the first time since he began his role as a broker, he felt afraid.  _

 

_ The explosive cargo reached its threshold from a combination of heat, chemicals and the pressure of the steam. The detonation blew near seven-thousand tons of steel across the docklands, cutting through building and bone as if they were butter. Fire rained from the sky and devoured each shrieking man it found. The air was acrid with the stench of burning flesh and ash.  _

 

_ Izaya didn’t make it far from the hysterical crowd, but he made it to a safe place and he made it out with with minimal damage. When he emerged from underground and surveyed the burning wreckage, he first experienced the sharp burn of nitrogen dioxide in his nose and lungs. All sound was deafened by a high-pitched ringing in his ears that had occurred when the blast crashed right above his head. If anything, he was glad that he was was spared the noise of the scene. Ignoring the pain in his right leg from where a piece of concrete had grazed it, he continued on toward the docks where he had been stood watching the boats not long ago. Izaya was terrified bu he wanted to see the epicentre; he pictured the closest thing to Hell he would see on Earth.  _

 

_ But it wasn’t.  _

 

_ There was little fire, no gore. Just a sad, dismal mess. The ship was slumped in the tarnished water, little more than a burning piece of gnarled metal. A thin layer of white powder was settled atop the ocean, making the waves froth intensely as they hit the shore. The young man saw no trace of the hysterical crowd, just a few scraps of fabric floating in the air. He climbed over the debris until he came to the area he presumed had once been the boardwalk. The wooden decking was no longer there, so he was forced to walk over the pebble beach toward the shoreline. Once he arrived at the edge of the ocean, he collapsed onto the ground and laid back on the stones so that he could stare at the sky. The smoky creature’s eye, now even bigger and brighter than before, glared back. He clutched the pebbles at his side, trying to hold on to the ground beneath him lest the beast pull him toward it.  _

 

_ “Strange.” _

 

_ Izaya tilted his head back and saw a set of fine shoes approaching. Without even seeing his face, he knew who it was. His hands relaxed around the pebbles and he looked back up at the hungry eye. _

 

_ “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” Izaya asked, a small smirk rising on his face. He took a deep breath to stop himself from growing hysterical.  _

 

_ “Are you implying that I had something to do with it?” the man asked, frowning down at him.  _

 

_ Izaya chuckled and turned his head so he wouldn’t be further entranced by the smoke in the sky. “I’m guessing that boat was transporting something you don’t want getting out? From the smell and the powder everywhere, I’d be pretty confident in saying that it was some sort of narcotic.” _

 

_ “I couldn’t possibly comment,” the man said, with a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.  _

 

_ “So, whoever you work for doesn’t like pushing drugs- seems pretty admirable. Though wiping out an entire port to do so? Not so much,” Izaya continued, mind whirring to try and straighten out the facts from the observations he had made. “Which means amongst the unfortunate collateral, there were people here you wanted dead as well. I’m guessing that I was one of them. Heh, yet here I am. Lucky me.” _

_ “You shouldn’t think yourself so lucky,” the gentleman commented. Izaya could hear the pebbles crunching underneath his feet. “Death is simply like sleeping. It is far sweeter than this place.” _

 

_ “What makes you say that?” the young man replied, shutting his eyes. The man stopped and stood just beside his outstretched arm.  _

 

_ “You’ll just have to take my word for it,” he laughed. “Perhaps you’ll see someday.” _

 

_ Izaya opened his eyes and looked up at him. He stared back down with eyes glinting with mischief. The young man raised a brow. “Are you going to kill me?” _

 

_ “No,” he replied, calmly. “Despite your age, you seem capable and intelligent, if a little overconfident. You're resilient, hell - you're still alive. We could use a guy like you, if you’d be interested.” _

 

_ Slowly, Izaya got to his feet and dusted off his ash stained coat. His leg was beginning to ache, he could feel blood congealing in the curve of his knee. The gentleman turned away from him but beckoned with his hand.  _

 

_ “Who are you?” Izaya asked, brows knitting together.  _

 

_ He didn’t look at him again before he started to head up the beach. “My name is Shiki Haruya.” _

 

_ “Who do you work for?”  _

 

_ “All in good time, Mr Orihara.”  _

 

_ “That's not good enough,” Izaya answered. He could still smell smoke; familiar and strangely comforting. Rationality told him that this man was Yakuza of some sort. He had dangerous written all over him, etched in the scars on his face and knuckles. “How can I trust someone who just tried to kill me?” _

 

_ “Follow me,” Shiki sighed, placing his hands into his pockets. He threw the USB stick back at Izaya, who caught it deftly. It was then that Izaya got a look at the insignia on his ring - Awakusu-Kai. “You can trust me, I'm a man of my word.” _

 

_ The sound of fire roared loudly still, in his ears, heavy and brilliant. He felt excited.  _

 

-0-

 

“Izaya?” 

 

The informant looked up from the floor when his named was called from above him. Shinra was staring back at him, a slight smile on his face. He was wiping his hands with a small, bloody towel. There was more scarlet splattered across his white coat and smudge over one cheek.

 

“Everything okay?” he asked, worriedly. The doctor insisted on bringing Namie back to his lab after he stemmed the bleeding, citing the need for all his equipment. Celty rushed them across the city to speed up the journey and Izaya followed quickly after them in a cab. He made Shizuo stay at his apartment - the blood in the corridor needed to be cleaned up before someone else walked upon the scene. Shizuo didn't seem too pleased but he agreed without fuss. 

 

“You mean apart from my Christmas with Celty being ruined and your secretary getting shot because some idiot thought it pertinent to purchase an illegal firearm?” Shinra retorted, sarcastically. He sat down on the sofa opposite Izaya, dropping the towel beside him. “Everything's just dandy.” 

 

“Is Namie-?”

 

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor interrupted, waving a hand carelessly. “Quite a bit of blood loss, so I had to give her a transfusion, which seemed to go okay. Got all the fragments out of her shoulder, patched her up - the usual. She was pretty lucky in terms of where the shot landed. The bullet nicked a couple of nerves so she’ll lose a bit of function in her little finger but that's about it. She’s a tough cookie but I'd like to keep her here for a couple of days nonetheless.” 

 

Izaya sighed in relief and leaned back into the cushions. Shinra didn't let him sit in the lab whilst he was performing surgery, so he had been waiting in their living room, trying not to imagine the worst. It was late so he had forced down two espressos from the coffee machine to to stay awake. When he felt his eyes drooping he took a cold shower which shocked him back into consciousness and cleaned some of the blood off his skin. Celty sat with him for a little while after that, asking multiple questions regarding his and Shizuo’s relationship. The Dullahan flitted between being annoyed that her friend ignored her cautions, angry at Izaya for being so cavalier with the firearm and confused as to why Shizuo was half-naked in his apartment. He left most of her questions unanswered and eventually she had gone to bed.

 

The doctor took off his glasses and polished them neatly on his white coat. “She’ll need to rest for a while, as do you and I. Why don't you go home? I can call you when she wakes up.”

 

“Yeah,” Izaya replied, running a hand over his tired eyes. Though he was worried about Namie, he knew waiting around for her to wake up was pointless. There was nothing further he could do now. He gave Shinra a small smile. “I could do with some sleep. I trust Namie will be safe here. Thank you for helping her - and me.”

 

“Uh huh,” Shinra muttered, raising a brow. “You can repay me by getting rid of the gun and licking the sole of my shoe.”

 

“Ah Shinra, Hell will freeze over before I lick your filthy shoes,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. The doctor laughed lightly but Izaya could tell that there was a level of seriousness to his request by the hard look in his eyes. “I'll have Shizu-chan warp the gun with his m-monstrous hands so it’s unusable.” 

 

“Oh, on that note, are you going to explain why Shizuo was in your apartment again tonight?” 

 

The informant’s face flushed a telling scarlet. “I, uh, well you see-” 

 

“A  _ shirtless  _ Shizuo, I might add?” 

 

“It's nothing!” he exclaimed, slowly standing to his feet. A grin spread over his face, hiding the nervous expression that had been there. “I n-need to g-”

 

“You'll have to explain it eventually,” Shinra said, a dark smile rising on his lips. “Now is as good a time as any.” 

 

Izaya scowled and tucked his walking stick under his arm. “I’ll save it for when y-you give me the lecture about gun safety.” 

 

“Honestly, it seems a bit odd that you're fucking the man you’ve tried to murder so many times. Especially after the last fight between you two,” the doctor snickered. “But still, it's good to know I was right about you guys getting al-”

 

“We are not fu- doing anything,” Izaya glowered, irritably. “We’re  _ nothing _ .”

 

With a sigh, Shinra stood and followed Izaya to the door. “I know you think I'm an idiot, Izaya, but I'm not. I'm not going to even begin to try and work out whatever  _ situation _ is going on there but please, I'm saying this as your friend, look after yourself. You and Shizuo have been at each other’s throats for years - you've already been close to dying once and now someone else is hurt. I don't want to have any more of my friends’ blood on my hands.” 

 

The informant turned to face him, hand resting on the doorknob. His gaze was softer than usual - if Shinra didn't know him as well as he did he might have mistaken it for honesty. “I don't think you're an idiot, Shinra.” 

 

“Could have fooled me,” the doctor laughed. He yawned loudly and removed his glasses briefly so he could rub his tired eyes. “I'll call you when she wakes up, okay? I can send Celty to come and get you if you like?” 

 

“That would be excellent,” he said, opening the door. “Thank you again. I really do appreciate the help.”

 

“It's fine. Stop thanking me, it's very unlike you and it's freaking me out!” Shinra replied, tone turning cheery once again. He waved at Izaya before the man turned and headed down the corridor outside their apartment. “I'm really looking forward to the earful - and fistful - that Namie gives you in the morning!”

 

The door swung shut, leaving Izaya in the dim light of the hallway. He smirked to himself as he limped toward the elevator, one hand digging in his pocket to find his phone so that he could call a taxi. Namie could do what she pleased with him, he thought, quite frankly he deserved whatever punishment she saw fit. 

 

-0-

 

_ Shinra barged into Izaya’s room, ignoring the sounds of the twins chirping behind him in welcome. The Orihara household wasn’t somewhere he enjoyed visiting, it was too cold, too strange, though that was to be expected what with the children’s parents always being absent. But he could hardly go to Shizuo with his current problem, so Izaya would have to do. He shut the door noisily behind him and stumbled into the middle of the room. The darker haired male swirled around in his chair and leaned an elbow back against his desk, upon which lay a dismantled laptop. He was still dressed in his school uniform, though his jacket was hanging from the back of the chair and his sleeves were rolled up over his forearms. _

 

_ “Learn to knock,” Izaya scolded, frowning.  _

 

_ “Oh right, uh - sorry,” the other replied, grinning at him. He placed the bottle of water in his hand on the bedside table and collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Izaya, what am I gonna do?” _

 

_ “I take it you’re still talking about Celty,” he replied, sighing. The bespectacled man had been talking about the Dullahan non-stop at school today and it was driving him insane.  _

 

_ “Obviously,” Shinra replied, leaning his head back against the wall. He drew his knees up into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I tried to speak with her earlier but I just ended up running away.” _

 

_ “You’re an idiot,” he chided, resting his cheek against the flat of his fist. “Just tell her what you want, it's obvious she likes y- I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” _

 

_ “It’s not exactly that easy,” Shinra grumbled.  _

 

_ “Why?” Izaya asked, curiously. His friend’s face darkened into an expression he had rarely seen throughout their entire time together. “Surely you just open your mouth and say ‘I love you’?” _

 

_ “No, no - it’s not that! I tell her I love her every day. I’m talking about uh-,” he explained. He glanced at Nine and grimaced. “I keep thinking about having making love with her.” _

 

_ Izaya raised a brow. That was not what he expected at all. He paused, mouth open slightly, trying to form a sentence. Shinra was looking at him with wide eyes, as if silently praying for validation. “You think about fucking her, so what? Don't all teenage boys think about that?” _

 

_ “No, not - I don’t wanna fuck her,” Shinra sighed. He smiled softly, as if she were in front of him. “I want to make love.” _

 

_ “Hmm,” Izaya mused, the noise barely a rumble in his chest. “Well ‘scuse me for not knowing the difference. Why are you telling me this? What’s your issue here?” _

 

_ “Well, what about if I do something wrong?” he answered. “What if I screw everything up and she never speaks to me again?” _

 

_ “Are you really asking me for sex tips?”  _

 

_ Shinra flushed deeply and dropped his hands back into his lap. “Uh- well, yeah.” _

 

_ Izaya smirked, rather enjoying his friend’s discomfort. He chuckled and sat back up straight, dropping his arm to his side. “Look, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to offer any help here, Shinra. Why don't you go ask the Internet? I'm sure it'll give you lots of ideas” _

 

_ “But you're always spouting on about loving people,” Shinra asked, frowning. “I thought you'd be able to advi-” _

 

_ “That doesn't mean I go around having sex every human I meet! Jeez, Shinra-” he paused, seeing his friend’s baffled expression. “Never mind, you idiot.” _

 

_ “So-” _

 

_ “So,” he hissed, brows knitting together. “Go ask Shizu-chan or something, I bet he ruts like a hog. He’ll probably have some more useful advice.” _

 

_ “That's not a bad idea, actually. Shizuo does get a lot of attention so I bet he has loads of thoughts on love!” Shinra exclaimed. He pushed himself off the bed and smiled happily down at Izaya. The smile faltered when he noticed the dark bruise circling his left eye. In his panic about Celty he hadn’t really looked at the other boy and it was only now that he saw the red marks around his throat and the open sores on his knuckles. “Are you okay?” _

 

_ “What do you mean?” _

 

_ Shinra pointed at his own eye. “You look like you got into a fight.” _

 

_ “Oh that,” the boy replied. A familiar smirk rose on his face. “Shizu-chan really doesn’t like me.” _

 

_ “What did you do this time?” Shinra asked, frowning.  _

 

_ Izaya chuckled and leaned back in his chair. The way he winced in discomfort did not go unnoticed by Shinra. “What makes you think I started it?” _

 

_ “Because I know you,” he retorted. “And you’re a thoroughly unpleasant individual.” _

 

_ “Oh Shinra, you wound me.” _

 

_ The bespectacled man snickered and waved a hand in the hair. “Anyway, I should go and see Shizuo before it gets too late. Thanks again for listening!”   _

 

_ Izaya’s eye twitched as he watched his friend dash out of the room. He called after him irritably. “Don't mention it, really. Please stop breaking into my house and sort things out. I’m sick of you and Celty silently fawning over one another. And please stop telling me about your sexual inclinations, it’s really starting to annoy me.” _

  
  


-0-

 

The hallways was clean by the time he arrived home. Izaya opened the front door to his apartment and wearily looked at the clock on the sideboard as he entered his home. Midnight already, he thought. He shut the door behind him and placed his walking stick against the wall so that he could shrug off his coat. 

 

“Izaya?” 

 

The information broker looked up to see Shizuo leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor. He was still dressed in the bloody trousers he had been wearing earlier and had pulled his shirt back on. Izaya could see dried blood on the skin beneath his collar. He tucked his walking stick back under his arm. 

 

“How is she?” Shizuo asked, quietly. 

 

The smaller man nodded and began to make his way slowly down the hall. “Alive. Sh-Shinra said she’ll be okay.”

 

“That's a relief,” he replied, following Izaya toward the sofas. “Are you going to see her tomorrow?”

 

“It is tomorrow.”

 

Shizuo pursed his lips, mildly annoyed by the other man’s impudence but he let the comment go unchallenged. “Today, then?”

 

“Yeah,” Izaya responded, his voice straining slightly as the ache in his legs began to worsen. “When she wakes up, m-most likely in the late afterno-.”

 

Despite the red-head’s best scrubbing efforts, there was still a large blood stain on one of the cushions. The informant stared at it blankly, then gave a tired sigh, shaking his head. Sometimes he questioned the life he had created, whether all this shadow and blood was what he wanted. He was only twenty five but he’d seen so much, he’d been hated and adored by so many people, he’d been stabbed and burned and snapped so many times. A lot of the time he felt old beyond his years. He looked back up at Shizuo and his gaze flicked up and down his body. Was this what he wanted, he thought, he didn’t know. He felt like control had completely slipped out of his grasp.

 

“What?” Shizuo asked, frowning. 

 

“You should shower,” he replied, moving away from the sofas toward the staircase. He placed one foot on the first step and took in a breath to prepare himself for the climb. It often hurt his legs to use the stairs but it was good exercise and luckily the set in his house weren't too steep. “You're covered in blood and it’s disgusting.” 

 

The larger man scowled and stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching the other’s slow ascent. “I didn't exactly kn-”

 

Izaya let out a noise of irritation and held tightly onto the bannister so that he could turn and glare down at Shizuo. “Look, Shizu-chan, I'm n-not in the m-mood for a fight right now. So just shut up for once, okay?”

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together but managed to remain calm. The informant had been through a lot that evening, it would be better to leave things alone for now. “I should head back, it's re-” 

 

“The shower is up here,” he called back. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face from the exertion and the burning ache in his legs. Shizuo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Unless you want to walk across the city covered in blood?”

 

“Uh, no. Not really,” Shizuo answered. He didn't expect to stay after everything that happened, he thought, he didn't think Izaya would want him to. Before he began to ascend the stairs behind the other man, he asked, “Are you sure?” 

 

“I told you I wanted y-you to stay,” Izaya murmured. “So stay.” 

 

“But-”

 

The informant grunted and turned away so that he could continue the climb. He also didn't want to look at the redhead’s face when he carried on speaking for fear of the expression there. “I don't w-want to be on my own tonight.”

 

He heard Shizuo start to walk up the stairs behind him and smiled wearily. The monster didn't ask why, which he was thankful for. It wouldn't be easy to explain that the sight of all the blood made him feel unsafe in his own home or that he was being eaten alive by guilt for hurting the one person who cared enough to save his life. He didn’t want to express how weak he felt for allowing Shizuo to reappear in his life. A strong arm wound around his waist and eased the pressure slightly off his legs. He let the other man assist him to the top of the stairs without fuss, he was far too tired to protest. The redhead rested his head close to Izaya’s and sighed softly as if the informant’s presence was comforting rather than uncomfortable. Izaya wondered when Shizuo’s opinion of him changed, wondered when his own had too. 

 

“The shower is in there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the left. “Use whatever you n-need.”

 

Shizuo released his waist and nodded. “Thanks.”

 

Izaya shrugged and continued along the corridor to his bedroom. He passed the door to Namie’s room and swallowed thickly, trying to rid his mind of the image of the bullet embedded in her shoulder. For now, all he could do was sleep and frankly that was all he wanted to do. After stripping his grimy clothes off and pulling on a fresh t-shirt and boxers, he collapsed on the top of his bed and shut his eyes, breathing in the scent of clean linen. His muscles ached terribly, the product of exhaustion and the prior damage done to them. He stayed in the same place, drifting in and out of sleep, until he heard the bathroom door shut. Groggily, he sat up and saw Shizuo standing in the doorway. He was clad only in his boxers and open shirt and was running a towel over his wet hair. 

 

“I put my trousers in your sink to soak,” he muttered, throwing the towel over his shoulder. “They got the worst of it.”

 

“Use the dryer in the morning,” Izaya yawned. He crawled up the bed and slid beneath the covers, barely awake at that point. 

 

“So uh, shall I-?”

 

“Just sleep here,” the informant sighed, pulling the duvet right around his shoulders. “I'm too tired to analyse this n-now.” 

 

He shut his eyes before he could see the satisfied smile that spread across Shizuo’s face. The redhead padded across the room and sat down on the other side of the bed to Izaya, facing away from him. The towel he had been drying his hair with was quickly discarded onto the floor and he swung his legs around so that he could get beneath the covers. He stayed facing away from the other man and let out a deep yawn as his head hit the pillow. It was only then that he too realised how exhausted he was. 

 

“Night,” Shizuo mumbled, shutting his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, night,” the other man replied, softly. 

 

It was only when Izaya flicked the lights off that the two men became hyper-aware of where they were, who they were laying beside and how close they were to touching one another. Izaya managed to drift into uneasy sleep after a while, thoroughly worn out by the events of the day. Shizuo’s eyes remained opened, the warmth of the other man obvious on his back. His stomach began to turn. There was an odd electricity crackling in the air between them that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. He swallowed nervously and listened to the sound of Izaya’s steady breathing, knowing full well that sleep would not come easy tonight. 

 


	22. Comfort in despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains gore and description of suicide
> 
> Phew, finally getting fluffy. Well, sort of. I'm bad at fluff. Hope you guys enjoy! Only a couple of chapters left to go.

_ The debt collection racket wasn’t always fun and games. Hell, it wasn’t where he pictured he’d be when he was a wide-eyed schoolboy with dreams of becoming an astronaut-cum-professional basketball player. He gave up a lot of dreams over the years, too downtrodden by the burden of his own body to think he was good enough to accomplish anything of real use. Doctor - he’d probably accidentally break more bones than he mended. Police officer - he’d most likely be arrested for losing his temper on a criminal or injuring a civilian. Teacher - children were more likely to cower from him than listen. Shizuo didn’t mind his job, he liked working with Tom plus it was a good outlet for all of his pent up anger. At least his strength could be useful. But sometimes he hated it. Most of the people they visited were scumbags, frequenters of the underworld, gamblers, pimps and the like, but it wasn’t those sorts that he disliked dealing with. It was the ones who were simply desperate. Like Ami Hirogashi.  _

 

_ It was a Friday night, he remembered that he’d just arrived home after work. It was an odd evening, there was a strange smell in the air and a tumescent, pockmarked moon lent a gentle hue to a night otherwise stained by a storm grey pitch. He didn’t expect someone to be waiting in his house for him, sitting at his kitchen table.  _

 

_ “You want a cigarette?” _

 

_ “No, I don’t want a fucking cigarette.” _

 

_ “Your loss.” _

 

_ “I wanna know what you’re doing in my house and who the fuck you are.” _

 

_ She was a slender woman, she could have been beautiful if it were not for the malnourished, sickly look to her. Her hair was short, shorn up to her cheekbones. It was a bad cut, most likely one she gave herself. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and removed a tin from the pocket of her jacket and placed it on the table. It was an old, half-rusted thing and when she opened it, he saw it was stuffed to the brim with brittle looking tobacco and had a small packet of papers set on the top. She ripped off a portion of the cardboard packet and began to roach.  _

 

_ “Answer me,” Shizuo said.  _

 

_ “How about you ask one question at a time?” she replied, calmly.  _

 

_ She placed the roach into her mouth and plucked a paper from the packet. He noticed they were thick and black, unlike normal Rizla. She placed a pinch of tobacco into the paper and rolled it deftly between her fingers. Shizuo grit his teeth together. He slung his bag on the desk and sat in the chair on the opposite side to her.  _

 

_ “You’re pushing your luck. Breakin’ in like this, I shoulda broken your neck soon as I switched the lights on.” _

 

_ The woman stared at him blankly, looking almost bored. She tapped the end of her cigarette on the desk and raised the end to her mouth. She smiled, thin lips stretching out widely.  _

 

_ “That’d do you no good, Mr Heiwajima.” _

 

_ “Who are you?” he asked, gruffly.  _

 

_ “My name is Ami,” she replied. She turned the cigarette over in her hand.  _

 

_ “Ami - what?”  _

 

_ “Hirogashi,” she answered. Her tone had a strange vacant quality to it that irritated him. “Don’t you remember me?” _

 

_ Shizuo shook his head and laced his hands together in his lap. The woman shifted slightly in her seat.  _

 

_ “You got anything to drink?” she asked.  _

 

_ “No,” he growled. He cracked his knuckles, annoyed. “Even if I knew who you was, you look about twelve.”  _

 

_ “I’m twenty-seven.” _

 

_ “Well, fuck me.”  _

 

_ “No, thank you,” she responded sarcastically. She sighed and let out a puff of smoke. “That’s a shame. I would have liked a drink before-.” _

 

_ She trailed off, her vacant eyes suddenly widening, suddenly flooded with emotion. Shizuo scowled and clenched his hand into a fist.  _

 

_ “What do you want? Why are you here?” _

 

_ Ami raised her gaze and ran a hand through her cropped hair. “I wanted to tell you something.” _

 

_ Shizuo grunted and rolled his eyes. “And what if I don’t wanna listen?” _

 

_ “I think you will.”  _

 

_ “Yeah?” he cocked his head to one side and smirked at her. “And what makes you think that? You broke into my damn house in the middle of the night, I don’t wanna listen to you, I want to have a drink and go to sleep. You’re fuckin’ lucky I didn’t break your neck.” _

 

_ Ami stared past him, her eyes blank again. She reached into her top pocket and retrieved a lighter. As she raised it to the end of her cigarette, her gaze shifted back to him. Her thumb snapped the sparkwheel and a flame burst from the top.  _

 

_ “I think you will wanna hear what I have to say.” _

 

_ He growled under his breath and waved a hand at her. “Fine. You got five minutes. Then get the fuck out of my house or I’ll quit being so nice.” _

 

_ She remained silent for a moment, taking small drags of her cigarette. Shizuo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. The smell of stale tobacco started to permeate the air between them. He glanced back up at her and frowned. A plume of smoke dripped from between her lips as she started to speak.  _

 

_ “Do you remember Arai Hirogashi?”  _

 

_ He shrugged. “No, should I?” _

 

_ She gave him a strange look from behind the smoke. “I guess not.” _

 

_ “Start talkin’ clearly or get the fuck out,” he muttered and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. _

 

_ Ami took a long drag of her cigarette. The smoke smelt strange, more saccharine than his chosen brand of straights and it seemed to linger in the air in circumvoluted patterns. When she didn’t make any further moves, Shizuo stood up from his seat and moved across the room to the door. He held it open and gestured to her. The woman didn’t move an inch and the tendrils of smoke continued to curl around her. _

 

_ “I dunno what this is about but I’m fuckin’ tired. Get out.”  _

 

_ “Your company collected a debt from my husband,” she said. Her tone had changed, now dripping with fury. Her eyes reflected a similar emotion. “He was a good man but things went awry when our child passed, got involved with drugs and gambling and the rest. But he was getting better. We couldn’t cope so he borrowed money and the bastard wanted it collected a month earlier than intended. My husband tried to reason with you but you didn’t want to listen - you beat him half to death and took the debt back. He killed himself not too long ago.” _

 

_ Shizuo remained quiet for a moment before swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry for your loss but-” _

 

_ “Losses, Mr Heiwajima,” she spat back, viciously. Her face was expressing such grief that it made his stomach turn. “Everyone but me.” _

 

_ Guilt started to weigh down his shoulders but he pushed it away. “I just do the job, Ami. I didn’t mean to-” _

 

_ “You didn’t even listen! You just took our money - it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair! Don’t you fucking dare pawn me off with such pathetic excuses,” the woman stubbed her cigarette out on the mahogany surface. Before he had time to react, she reached under the table and snatched up the gun that had been resting on her lap. Quickly, and with evident knowledge, she yanked the slide backwards and smiled when she heard the telling click of a bullet entering the chamber. “You’re going to take responsibility for what you’ve done.” _

 

_ Shizuo’s eyes widened in shock took a step forward and held his hand out. “Don’t be stupid. Gimme that.” _

 

_ “This is your fault.” _

 

_ The woman raised the pistol and shoved the muzzle into her mouth. She glared at him, gaze emitting utter hatred, and pulled the trigger without further action. Shizuo let out a cry and jumped back, placing his hands over his ears. A high-pitched ringing echoed inside his head, causing him to stumble disorientated around the room. He leaned heavily against the wall to his right, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to right his dazed mind.  _

 

_ “Fucking hell. What the fuck?” _

 

_ He opened his eyes and turned to the desk. Shizuo was not a man perturbed by the sight of blood but to have a body so mangled sitting at his desk brought bile to the back of his throat. Blood was splattered across the back wall of the room and pooled across the surface of the table, slowly rolling over the side onto the floor. The woman’s body was slumped over to one side. Shizuo knelt down and peered up at her face. He swallowed thickly.  _

 

_ “Fuck.”  _

 

_ One eye hung loosely from the socket, blown out of the skull by the force of the bullet. Bright crimson poured from her mouth. He sighed and stood, moving around the chair to take in the damage at the back of her head. The man spat, clearing the bile that had forced its way into his mouth. The exit wound was larger than he expected. Shattered bone and torn hunks of flesh were sprayed across the back of the chair just behind the jagged hole at the back of her skull. Her dyed hair was slick with blood, staining the pale a vibrant scarlet. The bullet had evidently fragmented somewhere inside her head, for another, smaller hole was torn just behind her ear. It must have sliced through an artery, for the skin of her throat had already started to darken to a deep purplish hue. The gun was on the floor next to her, discarded.  _

 

_ Shizuo retched and moved around the desk. He had seen a corpse before, but never one so fresh. Sure, he’d seen people get shot before but he’d never stuck around to see the damage.  _

 

_ “Jesus,” he gasped. “Fuck, no, no-” _

 

_ He sat shakily in the chair opposite the body and ran a hand through his hair. For a moment, the only sounds in the room were his harsh, laboured breaths and the soft drips of blood on an already wet carpet. He couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. The man took in a few deep breaths, repeating over and over in his mind that this wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t be blamed for this, he didn’t create the debt, he didn’t do anything wrong. Shizuo dropped the hand on his head and his eyes widened. Arai Hirogashi - yes, he remembered now. He’d been riled after chasing Izaya across the city all afternoon, so he was in no mood to listen to what he believed was another scumbag begging for time. Shizuo stood bolt upright and backed further away from the body, stomach churning violently.   _

 

_ Now an entire family was dead.  _

 

_ He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and dialled for Tom. Tom would know what to do. He glanced briefly at what was left of Ami Hirogashi and ignored the prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes. This wasn’t his fault, this wasn’t his fault.  _

 

-0- 

 

The information broker had fitful dreams of the monster and when he woke his hackles were up and his heart was pounding roughly. He was surprised to see that he was alone. If anything he was glad, now that his mind was clear and rested he was questioning why he allowed the man to stay. The stark, harsh reality of his relationship with the monster became so clear the prior evening - the heat of that kiss, the way they both clawed at the other either to tear them to shreds or to pull them closer and fill the gaping emptiness carved out by years of a lonely existence. Then the gunshot, the violence, all that blood-

 

_ I don’t hate you.  _

 

Izaya pushed the covers off so he could sit on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. The admission rang so clear in his mind, it was making him feel sick. What should he do, he thought, why was it so difficult to make his mind up on this, he’d never had a problem making any decisions. He supposed it was because all the previous ones involved the lives of others, rather than his own. If he was going to be able to make any sort of decision about what to do he needed time to think, space to breathe. Shizuo was pushing too hard, he was too open and honest - it wasn’t fair. The sound of clattering from the hallway drew his attention and his head snapped up to look at the door. 

 

“Shit, shit, shit!”

 

Shizuo came barrelling into the room and headed straight for the other side of the bed where his shoes were situated. The information broker frowned - he was wearing his usual outfit but it was clean, though a little ruffled. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept. 

 

“Shizu-chan?” he asked, wearily. “What's happening?”

 

“Gotta get to work!” Shizuo exclaimed, hurriedly pulling on his shoes. “Fucking late, fucking late, _ shit. _ ”

 

The smaller man watched him, bemused, as he frantically buttoned up his waistcoat and slid his phone into his pocket. This was an entirely bizarre situation, far too domestic and  _ normal _ . Izaya sighed and leaned back on the bed so that he could stare at the ceiling. Without warning, Shizuo leaned over him from the opposite side and planted a upside-down kiss on his lips. It was only fleeting but it was enough to cause a dark flush to spread across Izaya’s face. The informant jerked up when Shizuo leaned back and stumbled off the bed to the other side of the room. 

 

“What the f-fuck do you think you’re doing?” he exclaimed, angrily.

 

Shizuo grinned. “I wanted to kiss you.”

 

“Well, don’t!” Izaya snapped, only just holding back from stamping his foot petulantly. 

 

“Why not?” the other man responded, tilting his head to one side. The smile had disappeared and there was a stern look in his eye. “Look flea, I know shit has been difficult but I’m not gonna run away from this any more.”

 

Izaya growled in exasperation and pulled on the black t-shirt he had discarded on the back of a chair a few days prior. “Well for once stop thinking about yourself, you single-celled idiot.”

 

“What do y-?”

 

“Time,” the informant interrupted, eyes narrowing at the other. “I want you to leave me alone for a while. I n-need some fucking time to breath. I almost died, Namie’s just been hurt - I  _ cannot  _ deal with y-you, with whatever this stupid situation is, as well. If you want me to even consider  _ anything  _ I am going to n-need you to leave m-me alone.”

 

Shizuo remained quiet for a moment, clearly trying to process what he’d just heard. Eventually, he nodded and gave a deep sigh. “Okay, Izaya. I’m uh - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - ugh, I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll wait until you call.”

 

He left the smaller man standing alone in his bedroom. Izaya remained still until he heard the front door slam shut, at which point he fell face first onto the bed and curled up among the sheets. It was only pride that stopped him from crying. He had cried more in the last fifteen months than he had in his entire life and it was starting to grate on him. ‘The Great Izaya Orihara’ - where was he? As he drew the duvet closer around his shoulders, the man grit his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut. This weakness was unacceptable, he would give anything to be the person he used to be again. After a while his muscles relaxed and his jaw slackened and the information broker drifted back into sleep. 

 

-0-

 

It was just another Friday night, one Izaya had planned to spend unwinding. The week so far had been hectic and by the time the weekend rolled around he was exhausted. Namie went to stay with Seiji after she left Shinra’s and it was the very least Izaya could do to let her take off as much time as she wanted. The woman had been so delighted at the prospect that she asked if Izaya would consider shooting her again for more sympathy. Only after socking him in the nose and making him promise  _ on pain of death  _ to stick to flick knives in the future. It had been a fortnight or so since he’d seen anyone and he was starting to get a little lonely. Shizuo kept his word, much to his surprise, Izaya hadn’t heard a word from him. The information broker was still feeling uncertain about that situation. He told himself he needed a few more weeks - he  _ wasn’t  _ scared, but he still needed a few more weeks.

 

It was seven thirty and he was sprawled out on the sofa in his most comfortable clothes, halfway through a bottle of wine. A storm was raging outside, which made staying indoors all the more appealing. He was flicking mindlessly through the television channels, unable to settle on any of the boring programmes available. With a deep sigh, he set the remote control down on the arm of the sofa and turned his head away from the cartoons he decided upon and stared vacantly at the ceiling. Empty boxes of takeaway sushi were littered across the coffee table in front of him, remnants of his dinner from Russian Sushi. 

 

It was just another Friday night alone - until there was a loud knock at the door. Izaya frowned and pushed himself slowly off the sofa, leaving his wine glass on the coffee table as he headed down the hallway. His movements were still slow but he could manage short distances without his cane every now and then. Who could this be, he thought, Namie perhaps, maybe she needed to get one of her belongings. Or Shiki - no he always called ahead. Izaya felt in his trouser pocket for his flick knife. Better safe than sorry. He unlocked the door and jerked it open. To his surprise Shizuo was standing outside, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He looked disheveled - his hair was ruffled, his vest and glasses were missing and his bow tie hung loose around his neck. He was soaked from head to toe from the vicious rainfall outside. The scent of smoke hung heavily in the air and Izaya wrinkled his nose. 

 

“Shizu-chan,” he greeted, distaste obvious in his tone. “To what do I owe the p-pleasure?”

 

He flicked the knife open and lunge forward unsteadily, only to have Shizuo dart to the side. The redhead grasped his wrist and twisted it upward, not enough to really harm him but hard enough to make him drop the blade. Izaya hissed in pain and took a step back, tugging his wrist out of the iron grip. The larger man moved forward, over the threshold and into the light. One of his hands came to rest on Izaya’s shoulder as if he needed support. It was then that the information broker noticed the bright red staining his fingers. Shizuo’s other hand was wrapped around his torso, clutching his side tightly. The redhead frowned and let out a shaky sigh. 

 

“What happened?” Izaya asked, brows knitting together. “Why are y-you bleeding?”

 

“Went to a bar and some jackass stabbed me with a bread knife,” he grunted. “Didn’t even get to finish my drink.” 

 

“Why didn’t you go to Shinra?” the informant said. He folded his arms across his chest and shrugged Shizuo’s hand off his shoulder. 

 

“Shinra and Celty are on holiday, remember?” the redhead huffed. He winced and squeezed the wound tighter. “Look, I was nearby an’ I know you have a first aid kit. So jus’ let me in, flea. Before I start bleeding on your fancy carpet.”

 

Izaya sighed and stepped to the side so that Shizuo could move past him. He shoved his hands in his pockets after shutting the front door and span on his heel so that he could follow the redhead, who was headed toward the downstairs bathroom. 

 

“A bread knife?” 

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo growled, striding into the bathroom. He sat against the edge of the bath and let out a low groan. “Why?”

 

“Why did he have a bread knife?” Izaya replied, amused. 

 

Shizuo glared at him - the flea was certainly acting more like his usual, unbearable self. “I don’t know asshole, I didn’t stop to ask. I was too busy trying not to kill him.”

 

“How kind of you,” he chuckled. He retrieved a first aid kit from the cupboard above the sink and threw it across the room at the redhead, who caught it deftly. “I’m surprised someone m-managed to hurt you, Shizu-chan.”

 

“Why?” Shizuo frowned. He rested the kit down beside him and pulled his bloody shirt over his head. The man grit his teeth together as the material stuck to the wet tear and tugged painfully at the ragged skin. 

 

Izaya watched him closely, taking in the smooth tan skin stretched across his chest. His gaze trailed down to the vicious, leaking wound at his side. It wasn’t a puncture so much as a long, jagged slash that ran from his hip up around to the front of his chest. The serrated edges of the bread knife that cut him had shredded the skin messily but, despite all the blood, it didn’t look too deep. If that had been on anyone else, they could have died - but not the monster. A wry smile worked onto his face. “I’ve stabbed you hundreds of times and it never seems to affect you.”

 

“Your knives are like toothpicks,” he responded, ripping open an antiseptic wipe. He pressed the material over the wound and dragged it down across the skin, flinching as the chemicals sunk into his skin. “An’ while you’re fast-”

 

“Was,” Izaya interrupted, smile fading. “I  _ was _ fast.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Shizuo replied, uncomfortably. He looked down to where his hand was pressed against his side. “You were fast but not exactly strong. This guy had a fuckin’ bread knife and he was huge.” 

 

“Still no match for your monstrous strength though, I imagine?” Izaya said, leaning back against the wall opposite Shizuo. 

 

“Obviously not,” the redhead grumbled, continuing to clean the wound. He glanced up at Izaya, a surly expression on his face. “You got anythin’ to drink?”

 

“Like water?”

 

“Like vodka.”

 

Izaya rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall. “You’re pushing your luck tonight, Shizu-chan. Be thankful I’m feeling generous.”

 

“Generous? Shut the fuck up, flea,” the redhead called after him as he exited the bathroom. “You’ve already tried to stab me.”

 

The information broker moved into the living room and headed over to the small stock of alcohol on the sideboard. He ran his fingers over the bottles, musing on which would be most suitable. The cheapest whiskey he owned, bought for him by a client years ago, was what he decided upon. It was mildly annoying that a bloody Shizuo appeared in his apartment, especially after telling him to stay away, but he couldn’t deny that it was far less boring than spending the evening watching terrible television. He picked up his walking stick on the way back as he felt a familiar ache start around his hips. When he re-entered the bathroom, there were four bloody antiseptic wipes discarded on the floor by the bath and Shizuo was stood in front of the mirror, taping a piece of gauze over the last uncovered area of the wound. Izaya scrunched up his face in disgust. 

 

“Get those f-filthy rags off the floor,” he ordered, shoving the bottle into Shizuo’s chest. He pressed the flat of the glass against the wound hard enough for the other man to let out a grunt of pain. The redhead took hold of the bottle and stepped back, scowling darkly. 

 

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered, stooping over so that he could pick up the bloody material. He made a point of throwing them into the bin and gave Izaya a sarcastic smile. “Happy?”

 

“No, not really,” the information broker retorted. “How could I be with a beast like you spewing blood all over my house and drinking my booze?”

 

Shizuo glowered at him. He uncorked the bottle and took a quick swig, much to Izaya’s distaste. The two men glared at one another for a moment longer, then the information broker sighed and looked down at the floor. He jerked his head to the side and turned, heading back into the living room. Without bothering to check if the other man was following, he threw himself back down onto the sofa and reached for his abandoned glass of wine. Soon after Shizuo appeared, now wearing his wet, bloodied shirt. He sat down in the armchair to the right of Izaya and sparked up a cigarette, then gestured to the coffee table. 

 

“I didn’t think you ate,” he commented, smirking. 

 

Izaya frowned and took a sip of his drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Aren’t you a bloodsucker?” Shizuo chuckled, letting out a cloud of smoke. Izaya coughed, pointedly. “Plus you’re so damn skinny.”

 

“I’m not  _ skinny _ ,” Izaya replied, scathingly. “I’ve got a slender frame.”

 

“Beanpole.”

 

The information broker pursed his lips and sighed. “Why are you still here? You’re all patched up aren’t you?”

 

Shizuo took a swig from the bottle of whiskey and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He remained silent for a moment, brows knitting together as if deep in thought, then he looked back up at Izaya. There was something odd in his gaze, a softness there that made the smaller man feel uncomfortable. 

 

“Can I stay here tonight, flea?” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled out of his mouth as he spoke. “I can’t be assed to walk home.”

 

Izaya felt his stomach twist and he admonished himself for such a reaction. “If I tell you no, will you leave?”

 

Shizuo seemed  to hesitate but then he nodded. “Yeah, I’d leave if that’s what you wanted.”

 

The smaller man sighed and swung his legs around so he could stretch out on the sofa. He leaned his head against the armrest and settled his wine glass on the floor beside him. 

 

“Whatever, Shizu-chan,” he said, waving a hand carelessly. “I don’t know why you keep coming over.”

 

“I needed to clean this shit up before it got infected,” Shizuo mumbled, setting the whiskey down. “And I wanted to see you.”

 

Izaya raised a brow. That was unexpected, he thought. “Why?”

 

“Why do you think?” the redhead scoffed, tapping the end of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table. “Idiot.”

 

The information broker sat upright so he could finish his drink. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was set in a straight line as if he were mulling over something complicated in his head. Shizuo looked at him silently, butterflies filling his stomach. Eventually, Izaya raised his head and  held a hand out toward the other man. Shizuo stood slowly and moved across the room to take his hand. Gently, the smaller man tugged on his arm and pulled him down next to him on the sofa. They sat shoulder to shoulder in content silence for a moment, Izaya still holding his hand tightly. For a moment, Shizuo feared that he might pull away but he didn’t, he went further and rested his head on the redhead’s shoulder. It was the informant who broke the quiet.

 

"I’m so sick of this," he said, softly. "I'm n-not going to run away either."

 

"You're not?" Shizuo asked, nervously. "Even though-"

 

"Though what?"

 

Shizuo glanced at him from the side and noticed that he had his eyes shut contently. "Even though I almost killed you?"

 

"I tried to kill you too."

 

The redhead laughed but it came out rather shaky. Why was he nervous, he thought, talking to Izaya had been easy enough so far. Still, his heart didn't slow. "Shall we stop trying to kill each other now?"

 

"Yeah," Izaya hummed. “I suppose that would be better.”

 

"I’m always going to have this ridiculous strength. What if-?" he trailed off, mouth turning down into a frown. He looked at his hands and rolled them into fists. "What if I hur-?"

 

The smaller man opened his eyes and furrowed his brow. "You don't have to worry about hurting me Shizu-chan, I'm stronger than I look. I came back last time, didn’t I?"

 

“But-”

 

“Look, I survived our last fight even though you were trying your hardest to kill me,” Izaya said, seriously. “I trust that you’re not going to do that again. I can handle everything else easily, I always have.”

 

Izaya felt Shizuo stiffen and turned his head to look up at him. He barely had time to noticed he was already looking back before he pressed his lips against Izaya’s. The movement surprised him initially, but soon he closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss. The feeling of Shizuo’s lips on his like this  at last was bliss, it was as if all the tension that had built up over the years was finally easing. Shizuo tilted his head to the other side, his free hand moved to cup Izaya’s cheek and his thumb began to gently stroke his skin. izaya opened his mouth and he followed the other man’s lead, allowing their tongues to intertwine. Shizuo pulled back after a moment, panting heavily.

 

"I've been wanting to do that again," he breathed. His hand moved from Izaya’s cheek and trailed down his throat until he reached his collarbone, where he dropped it to his lap. 

 

"You’re so greedy, Shizu-chan," the informant chuckled. His blood was pounding in his ears, heart racing with excitement and nerves. He raised a hand and smoothed it through Shizuo’s hair. The redhead seemed to like the feeling and nuzzled against as if he had been starved for touch for years. "If you go too far I'll tell you and you can stop."

 

Shizuo sighed softly, a smile spreading over his face. Izaya couldn’t hold back from smothering that smile with a kiss, it was so bright and happy and  _ absurd.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	23. Doubt truth to be a liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter, woo! Almost done with this behemoth of a fic. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. The final chapter will most likely be a lot of 'slice of life' type stuff and some smut. For those who have been reading my other fics, I will be continuing 'Hunted' as a longer piece when this is done.

The two of them fell asleep on the sofa next to one another that evening. They were sprawled out lengthways, with Shizuo resting on the outer side slightly below Izaya, who rested his head on a cushion on the arm. Shizuo’s head rested on Izaya’s chest and the brunet’s arms wrapped around his shoulders comfortingly. They had been too exhausted to move, worn out by the strain of thinking and feeling too much in one instance, so fell into a deep slumber around midnight as the storm raged outside. By morning, the clouds had cleared and the sky had calmed into a still, sparkling blue. Izaya woke first, albeit briefly. His room always let in a little light, thanks to the enormous windows, but it was still fairly dark and as very little sound came from outside, he assumed it was the early hours of the morning. Initially, the heavy weight on his chest confused him, until the fog of sleep cleared and red hair come into focus. A small smile crept over his lips. Izaya reached to one side, trying not to move the other man too much and pulled a blanket out from beneath the sofa, billowing it so that it now covered their bodies. Though it was cold, their clothes were thick and Shizuo was always burning hot so the makeshift cover was enough. Izaya felt the warmth of Shizuo’s body next to him and the tickle of his dyed hair beneath his chin and he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, enjoying the closeness of another. They both stirred a few hours later, their eyes meeting in the dim as they woke. The dawn had still not broken outside and the streets were still quiet. Shizuo snuggled deeper into Izaya’s chest and wrapped his broad arm around his waist. 

 

“This is a good way to wake up,” he mumbled, voice muffled by Izaya’s jumper. “And I hate waking up.”

 

Izaya chuckled and began to stroke Shizuo’s back lightly with his fingers. Though it was only through his shirt, he seemed to enjoy it thoroughly and began letting out a purr-like hum. Izaya felt a breeze of cold air around his stomach for a moment, which was soon replaced by the feeling of Shizuo’s fingers crawling up his bare stomach. The sensation was so pleasant he had to bite his tongue to stop the whimper that threatened to spill out of his lips. The redhead’s fingers explored his tummy for a while, then rested on his waist, just below the swell of his rib cage. 

 

“You're warm,” Shizuo breathed, voice just loud enough to hear. Izaya could tell he was still drowsy by the slowness of his speech. “S’nice.”

 

Izaya hummed in response and stroked his fingers back and forth through his hair. It was wiry and thick, not as soft as he had imagined but the feeling was nice, nonetheless. He rolled the strands around his fingers and chuckled when the other man let out a breathy moan. 

 

“Feels good,” Shizuo murmured. 

 

“You're like a cat,” Izaya commented, slowing his movements. Shizuo was fighting sleep, as was he. His dark eyes drooped and he let his head fall back against the sofa cushion. “More like a dog, actually.”

 

“Shut up, flea,” Shizuo replied, not a hint of malice in his tone. 

 

“You know this is insane, right?” the informant asked, closing his eyes. “We’re meant to hate each other.”

 

Shizuo yawned loudly and spanned out his fingers on Izaya’s stomach, an action which caused the informant to shiver. “Yeah well, I prefer this.”

 

"Mmm," he hummed. The beast was so warm against his chest. "Me too."

 

They drifted back to sleep shortly after that, neither willing to disturb the other’s comfort. 

 

-0- 

 

_ The ex-bartender raised his head and smoothed his hands over his face. The burns on his arms were still stinging but the majority of the injuries caused by the showdown the week before were healed over. He doubted Izaya was in such a good state. A feeling of disgust washed over him at the thought of the other man. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, taking a sharp sip then setting it on the top of the bar. Russia Sushi was basically empty tonight, so he had the entire back room to himself, which he was thankful for. Simon let him have free reign over the bar in the room so long as he paid his bill and promised to clean up whatever mess he made afterwards. The Russian knew that sometimes Shizuo needed to escape and bury his troubles in liquor and he would rather be the one keeping an eye on him in those moments.  _

 

When Vorona stabbed him, Izaya’s eyes bulged out of his head. Shizuo felt as if ice water had been thrown over him when the informant dropped to one knee and looked up at him, catching his gaze, with tears in his eyes. It was as if the red mist clouding his vision had dissipated and finally he could see the other man for what he was. A small, scared, beaten creature. Something mortal. 

 

“Wait!” 

 

Then there was a loud bang and the area was filled with smoke. 

 

_ Shizuo sighed irritably. It was not his place to care. He didn't care. He didn't care.  _ He didn't care.

 

_ The man winced as his fingers twitched over the wooden bar and a loud cracking sound filled the room. He took in a deep breath and released the edge before he destroyed it completely. He didn’t give a shit about the flea, so why was he feeling like this? Rationally, he knew exactly why. He reached for the glass of whiskey on the top of the bar and gulped it down. The sweet music playing quietly in the bar made him feel sick. The spicy liquid hit the back of his throat roughly and sent his blood rushing. _

 

_ The music swelled again and Shizuo let out an angry yell, hitting his fists down on the bar. He couldn't feel like this, it was wrong. Izaya was evil, he hated him - he hated him, didn’t he? Everything was wrong, or broken, or burned- _

 

_ He stood up sharply, causing the stool to tip over on its side. The blonde looked around his room, eyes burning with anger. The memory of that smile wouldn't leave his mind, nor would the crushed look in Izaya’s eye when he threw him down amongst the trash. He clutched his hair in his hands and let out an anguished growl. In a fit of rage, the man began to tear at the chairs, tables, glasses - anything within reach - and throw them to the floor.  _

 

_ "Shizuo, what the fuck man?" _

 

_ The blonde swivelled to face the source of the voice and found Kadota leaning casually against the door that led into the back room. He pushed himself away from the frame and shut the door behind him. Kadota looked at the mess, the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and Shizuo's manic expression and chuckled, shaking his head. _

 

_ "Are you drunk?" Kadato asked, frowning. _

 

_ Shizuo sighed irritably and turned away from the man, throwing himself down on the sofa in the centre of his room. "Shut up." _

 

_ "C'mon, Shizuo," Kadota began, walking to the bar and grabbing the bottle. "You got another glass?" _

 

_ The blonde waved dismissively toward the shelves behind the bar. Kadota retrieved a glass and poured them both another drink before settling them on the table in front of Shizuo. He sat in the armchair opposite and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. _

 

_ "What do you want, Kadota?" Shizuo groaned, picking up the glass. He winced as the whiskey seared his tongue. _

 

_ "Take it slow, man," he replied, frowning. Shizuo glared at him and took another large gulp. A trickle of the liquid ran down his chin and dripped onto the sofa. "You're such a fucking slob." _

 

_ "Screw you. Give me the bottle, then answer my question," the blonde replied, shoving the empty glass to the other side of the table. _

 

_ Kadota laughed incredulously, but passed Shizuo the whiskey. "What's gotten into you? You're acting even weirder than usual." _

 

_ Shizuo snorted, bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips. He paused and spoke before taking another long drink. "Izaya." _

 

_ The other man raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, I thought as much. Are you feeling bad about what happened?" _

 

_ "No, I do not feel bad, asshole," he snapped in response. Kadota’s remained calm, despite the other man’s temper - he always had, a trait Shizuo respected greatly.  _

 

_ "Pfft, I'm not an idiot," Kadota replied, taking a sip of his drink. The blonde intimidated him but he wasn’t afraid of him, he knew Shizuo was a good man, even if that was masked in a veneer of bristling anger. “What happened back then was pretty rough. You must feel something, be a bit worried abou-.”  _

 

_ Shizuo scowled and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. "Izaya Orihara is not and have never been any of my concern. I couldn't care less about him." _

 

_ "Then why are you so upset?" Kadota asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Unless you drink a bottle of whiskey and smash up a bar every night, I’d say that you seem a bit off.” _

 

_ The blonde paused, trying to gather his confused thoughts. "Because, I-" _

 

_ "Don't bullshit me." _

 

_ Shizuo let out an angry growl. "I just wanna know if he’s dead or alive, alright?" _

 

_ "Right, sure," Kadota responded, frowning. He was silent for a moment, brows knitted together as if deep in thought. Eventually, he sighed and set his glass down on the table. "Now look, don’t punch me for asking this dude but did something happen between you and Izaya?" _

 

_ His face paled and he turned his head to look at the other man. "What?" _

 

_ "A while ago now, I was sitting in the van while the rest of my guys were in the store picking up whatever weird manga they read," Kadota explained, folding his arms over his chest. “I saw you carrying Izaya. He looked pretty beat up and at first I thought that you’d done it in one of your fights but-” _

 

_ "But why would I look after him if I went to all the effort of beating him up, right?" _

 

_ “Exactly,” Kadota sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I thought I was goin’ mad for a second. So what happened?" _

 

_ Shizuo grunted and took another swig from the bottle. "He’d been stabbed by some gang members." _

 

_ "And you took him to hospital?" he asked, frowning.  _

 

_ “No,” Shizuo replied, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure why he was talking so freely with Kadota, they weren’t exactly the closest of friends. There was something open and honest about the other man and the fact he even bothered to speak to Shizuo seriously was enough of a reason to continue. Perhaps speaking with someone would help. It had been a long time since he’d had the opportunity to do so - after the fight a lot of people were avoiding him, even Celty was strangely absent from his life. “I took him to my place.” _

 

_ Kadota nodded and he looked down into his drink, mulling over his thoughts. “Probably a better idea. The police might’ve thought you did it.” _

 

_ The blonde sat up straight and set the whiskey down on the table. "Yeah, that was my thinkin’. He wasn’t exactly grateful though, the little shit." _

 

_ “Nah, course not,” Kadota chuckled. His smile faded shortly after. “So how did you get from saving his life to- to what happened?” _

 

_ Shizuo rested his glass on the table. The men sat in silence together for a while. Shizuo and Kadota were fairly isolated creatures, but they appreciated each other's company. Even in school they would sit in comfortable silence on some days, one reading, one listening to music. They didn’t see each other that often these days but the easy atmosphere was still there. In the silence, Kadota could tell that something was bothering Shizuo, something that he was struggling to say out loud.  _

 

_ “Izaya seemed really intent on killing you this time. More so than ever before, usually he just likes fucking with you. So, I was thinkin’ what changed, why he would try and set you on fire,” he said, carefully. “Did you two-? _

 

_ Shizuo looked up at him wearily. "I-uh, he. Ugh, fuck. This is all so messed up." _

 

_ Kadota removed his hat and set it on his lap. “Yeah, I thought so.” _

 

_ The blonde sighed. "You’re observant, ain’t ya Kyohei?" _

 

_ “Gotta stay vigilant,” he responded, raising his glass. He took a sharp drink and set it back on the sat. “Look man, I don’t know what happened there and frankly, I don’t want to. All I can say is that I hope he’s not dead, for his sake and yours.” _

 

_ “I don’t care.” _

 

_ Kadota scowled. “So you don’t care if you’re a murderer?” _

 

_ Shizuo groaned under his breath, closing his eyes. The whiskey caused a hazy feeling to fill his head. He didn't care any more - he didn't want to think straight. "He tried to fucking kill me, I don’t give a shit about him." _

 

_ Kadota stood up from the armchair. "You're an asshole sometimes." _

 

_ The man shoved his hat back on his head and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Shizuo smiled wearily to himself - he’d actually angered the usually collected Kadota, he  must have really annoyed him. Eventually, the sound of Kadota’s footsteps quieted and he was left alone. He opened his eyes and sank lower into the pillows of the sofa. Deep down, he hoped Izaya was alive too.  _

 

-0- 

 

“So you two are-?”

 

“How about you focus on stitching me up, eh Shinra?” 

 

“You’re mostly healed anyway!” the doctor exclaimed, prodding his finger on the scabbed area of the slash across his torso. “I can’t believe you waited three days for us to get home before you got this looked at.”

 

Shizuo winced as Shinra finished the stitching and looped the surgical thread to seal it. “I didn’t want to go to the hospital to explain this shit. Plus, it wasn’t hurting.”

 

“Your body never ceases to amaze me,” Shinra chuckled. He wiped the excess blood away from the wound and patted the redhead’s shoulder so that he could sit up. “There we go.”

 

“Cheers,” he replied, pushing himself up. He swung his legs around and sat on the edge of the table so that he could look at the stitches. “You’re surprisingly neat.”

 

“I am nothing if not masterful,” Shinra replied, placing his equipment into his bag. He waltzed out of the room, humming cheerily. 

 

Shizuo took a couple of minutes to pull on his shirt and sweater, being careful not to touch the freshly sealed area, then he headed into the living room after Shinra. The doctor was standing on the opposite side of the room, placing his bag down on the floor. Izaya was sitting on the dining room table, his feet dangling freely in the air. The informant raised his head as Shizuo entered the room and gave him a dark smirk. 

 

They hadn’t talked things through much, they acted more with physical action to show each other how they felt, what they wanted. Izaya once flirted with the word ‘dating’ but it made both of them screw their faces up in disgust. No, ‘dating’ was not a word that they would ever use. They were just ‘together’ - Shizuo and Izaya, a pair as they had always been. The only difference now was that they no longer repelled but attracted one another. Shizuo still got pissed off and Izaya still enjoyed making him pissed off, but now and then there were simple moments of tenderness that they both found pleasant. They weren't so lonely anymore.

 

“This is funny, huh?” Shinra laughed, pointing back and forth at the two men. “This is just like the first time you guys met. Now what was it I said - um. Oh yeah! Meet Izaya Orihara from our Junior High. And well, he’s a pretty good guy! To be honest...he’s not really good at all.”

 

“That’s  _ still  _ not nice, Shinra,” Izaya replied, rolling his eyes. He looked back at Shizuo and tilted his head to one side. “Do you remember what you said, Shizu-chan?”

 

The redhead nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. ‘You piss me off’.”

 

Izaya’s grin widened and his eyes glinted with the same mischief they had shown all those years ago. Shizuo smiled at that, pleased to see the vacancy that had clouded his gaze since their last confrontation filled by familiar amusement. “Do I still piss you off?”

 

“Course you do,” Shizuo retorted. He took a few steps toward Izaya and folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t cut me this time, okay flea?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving a hand in the air. “Your chest is safe, don’t worry about it.”

 

“You’re so slash-happy, Izaya,” Shinra exclaimed, shaking his head. He glanced at Shizuo and a nasty smile spread over his face. “With all the knives he keeps on him, I don’t know why you let this man near your di-”

 

The doctor was cut off by a sofa cushion smacking him in the face. It was thrown hard enough by Shizuo that it knocked him over, though he was swiftly caught under the armpits by Izaya and pushed upright. Shizuo’s face was flushed a dark shade of red, though for once it looked to be more due to embarrassment than anger. Shinra snickered and dusted himself down. 

 

“Your reactions are as quick as ever Izaya, thank you,” he said, bowing his head at the informant. 

 

Izaya chuckled and nodded in response. “Not quite, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

“Can we go now, flea?” Shizuo growled, grabbing his jacket off the sofa. “I’m starving.”

 

Someone tapped on his shoulder and he turned to see the familiar, shadowy space where a head should be. Celty held up her PDA.  _ You can stay for dinner if you like. Shinra was going to order something in.  _

 

“Uh,” Shizuo replied, running a hand over the back of his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t wanna impose-”

 

_ Don’t be silly, we’d love you to stay. Izaya too, I guess.  _

 

The redhead smiled. Predictably, Celty had been the one who was least pleased with the development between the two men. Though she accepted it, she was still unsure of the informant and acted cautiously around him. Shizuo could tell that Izaya felt much the same about the Dullahan. 

 

“I don’t mind - flea, what do you wanna do?” he asked, turning his head to look at him. 

 

Izaya shrugged. “The less I have to walk the better.”

 

“Tch, you need to keep exercising,” Shizuo scolded, scowling. “Don’t be lazy.”

 

“Be quiet, Shizu-chan,” the informant chuckled. He folded his arms over his chest. “If  _ you  _ hadn’t broken my back-”

 

A vein pulsed in Shizuo’s forehead and he strode toward Izaya, pointing a finger in his face. “If  _ you  _ hadn’t tried to kill me-”

 

The two men were both silenced when thick, black bands of shadow wound around their mouths, courtesy of Celty. Shinra giggled and waltzed across the room to take the headless woman in his arms. He laced his fingers through hers and swirled her round, dipping her low as if they were dancing. Her shoulders moved with laughter as he brought her back upright and nestled close into her neck. 

 

“Ah, my darling Celty,” he cooed, happily. From his position he looked over her shoulder at the two men with a dark grin on his face. Shizuo was animatedly trying to tear the shadows away from his mouth while Izaya sat motionless, murder in his eyes. Shinra chuckled and pressed his lips against her shoulder. “They think they’re tough don’t they? But they’ve no idea.”


	24. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait, it's been a hectic week. But here we are, the final chapter! I hope you've all enjoyed this piece of work, I've certainly enjoyed writing it! This is saccharine as hell, so fluff lovers rejoice. 
> 
> I'll be working on another Shizuo/Izaya piece called 'Hunted', as well as a couple of Namie/Izaya one-shots which I hope you will check out too. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the reviews, I appreciate every single one.

  
  


_ February, March, April, May, June-  _

 

A particular day in July arrived. 

 

Shizuo was sat on the countertop, lightly stirring a bubbling pot of sauce that was on the hob next to him with a wooden spoon. Izaya was sat at the table, focusing intently on the book in his hand. A loud slam startled their peace and the informant turned his head to see his secretary stomping down the hall toward them.

 

"Namie!" Izaya called, happily. "You're late!"

 

"Sorry," she replied, placing a plastic bag onto the counter next to Shizuo. The redhead looked down at her curiously. "We had some leftover buns, the ones you like. Help yourself."

 

"Thank you," Shizuo said, giving her a small smile. He immediately reached out and delved a hand into the bag. She threw one of the buns at Izaya, who didn’t manage to put his novel down in time so it hit the side of his face. 

 

Izaya marked the corner of the page and set the book down on the table. He rested his chin on his fist and observed the other two as they interacted with each other. It was surprising that Namie and Shizuo got on so well, considering her previous feelings toward the man. At first things had been difficult, it took Izaya quite a while to convince her that - one, Shizuo didn’t shoot her, and two, their relationship _ was _ going to happen and she  _ was  _ going to have to deal with it. She slapped Izaya after he said that and called him an idiot but slowly she came to terms with having the redhead around. They were quite alike really, both surly and quick to anger. They were both strong - though while Shizuo’s was physical, Namie’s strength lay in intellect. 

 

“Pass the pepper, would you?” Shizuo said, prodding the woman’s arm. 

 

Namie picked up the grinder and shoved it into his chest. “Next time get it yourself.”

 

“Blah blah blah,” Shizuo mocked, flashing her a grin. 

 

"How long is that going to be?" Izaya asked, raising an iced bun up to his mouth. “I’m starving.”

 

"About half an hour. It would be quicker if you bothered to help  _ at all _ ," Shizuo muttered. He emptied a packet of pasta into another saucepan and poured boiling water over it from the kettle. 

 

Izaya hummed in appreciation. "Always so tetchy, Shizu-chan."

 

Namie rolled her eyes and flopped down in the chair on the opposite side of the table to the informant. She removed her coat and reached down into her bag so that she could retrieve the bottle of wine she brought with her. 

 

“I’d be tetchy too if I had to put up with you all the time,” she commented, scathingly. Shizuo chuckled as he bustled about the kitchen, which caused Izaya to scowl. “The day you finally let me move out was the best day of my life. It’s a relief to have no more dirtbags crawling into my bed at night because they’re scared of a little nightmare.”

 

“Shut up, Namie,” Izaya sighed, waving his hand at her. He reached out for the bottle of wine, which she deftly snatched away. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Everyone who crawls into your bed is scared - because you're in it.”

 

The woman shot him a glare but there was amusement curling the side of her lips. Deep down, she was pleased Izaya seemed to be easing back into his old self. “What a vile thing to say to your friend.” 

 

The informant smiled and relaxed back against his chair. “So you're calling me a friend now?” 

 

“Shut up,” she replied, unscrewing the bottle of wine. “You got me shot, I'll call you whatever I damn well please.”

 

“I did not get y-” 

 

“Shizuo,” Namie called, holding up a finger to silence Izaya. “Could you pass me a glass?”

 

The redhead snorted and headed to the cupboard. He gathered three glasses and placed them down on the table in front of her. Before she could reach for one, Shizuo leaned down and fixed her gaze momentarily. A sarcastic grin stretched across his face. “Next time get it yourself.”

 

Namie rolled her eyes and tutted, pushing the man away, though of course he barely budged. The two brunettes spent the rest of the evening bickering like siblings, their voices getting progressively louder as they made their way through another two bottles of wine. Shizuo watched them quietly as he continued to prepare dinner, lost in thought. He was focused on the way Izaya held his glass, the way his fingers still trembled slightly and how he shifted every few minutes to relieve the pressure on his hips. His eyes traced the faded white scars that ran across his neck and under the collar of his shirt. It had been two years to the day since the fight in Ikebukuro and the memories had been distracting him all day. A sharp crack rang out and he looked down to see the wooden spoon he was stirring the sauce with had snapped under the weight of his fingers. It was as  easy as cracking a fragile twig. He was still a monster, he would always be a monster. Shizuo’s brows knitted together and he placed the remains of the spoon down on the chopping board, without saying a word. He wondered if the other man was thinking about it too. 

 

Unbeknownst to Shizuo, Izaya’s gaze flicked across to him at the quiet sound of snapping. The redhead was looking blankly at his hands, then he pursed his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. The informant frowned slightly at the other man’s actions but didn’t mention it and looked back at Namie, who hadn’t noticed their exchange, still busy yammering insults directed at Izaya. He smiled at her, but his thoughts were someplace else.  

 

-0- 

 

_ Time passed, as it always did. With time, came comfort.  _

 

_ “You know you really should be doin’ your work. Namie said-” _

 

_ “Shut up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya replied, stretching his arms up into the air. He rolled his head to one side, enjoyed the warmth of the other man’s lap against his cheek. “Namie isn’t the boss of me. I’ll get to it when I get to it. We shouldn't be inside on a beautiful day like this. Besides, isn't this more fun?”  _

 

_ Shizuo peered down at the brunette who was sprawled out beneath him and smiled. “Yeah, I guess. But I'm blaming you if we get in trouble from some Yakuza guys.” _

 

_ “Fine, fine,” he chuckled, closing his eyes. “Stroke my hair.” _

 

_ “You're so demanding, flea.”  _

 

_ The sun bore down on their heads and a pleasant wind rolled across the balcony providing much-needed coolness. Shizuo leaned back against the wall he was propped up against and threaded his fingers through Izaya’s dark hair, gently scraping the man’s scalp in a way he knew would elicit a groan. He was not disappointed and soon a delightful sound fell from the smaller man’s lips.  _

 

_ “Mmm,” Izaya hummed, nuzzling against the hand. “Be careful, Shizu-chan.” _

 

_ “Why?” _

 

_ “Why indeed.”  _

 

-0-

 

"Are you alright?" 

 

"Fine," Shizuo replied, curtly. He turned his head away from the man looking at him inquisitively from the doorway. "Why?"

 

Izaya stepped further into the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He moved to the armchair by the television and perched delicately on the edge. Shizuo peered at him from his position on the end of the bed and found himself staring at the way the informant held himself, the way he hobbled when he walked. A tight twisting sensation began in his stomach. It was his own hands that stained Izaya’s pale skin with black marks and irreparably broke his bones, the result of uncontrollable rage. 

 

"You didn't talk much at dinner, even after I tried to provoke you," Izaya said, lacing his hands together in his lap. "Did I do something wrong?"

 

"No," he answered, blankly. “Well, technically yeah, you've done a fuck load of things wrong but not today.”

 

"Okay," an awkward silence fell between them. Izaya looked down at his lap. Shizuo stared straight at him. "I'm sorry-"

 

"Don’t apologise, Izaya. We both know you don’t mean it," he ground out, irritably. The other man looked at him sadly but said nothing further. Shizuo couldn't stop thinking out their fight, the memory was still so clear. With a heavy heart and a mind that was still drawing blanks on what to say, he held out a hand. "Come here."

 

Izaya looked surprised, but gave him a small smile and rose from the chair. He held out his hand as he neared the redhead, who grabbed ahold of it and tugged him down, so that he sat between his legs on the bed, facing away from him. The broker tensed as he pulled him back against his broad chest. Shizuo closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach and the way his heart was pounding roughly against his ribcage at the warm sensation of his body against the other man’s. Shizuo seemed different than usual, Izaya thought - far tenser and more agitated. 

 

"You can tell me if something’s bothering you, Shizu-chan," Izaya murmured. He flinched when he felt Shizuo’s lips press against the curve of his neck. 

 

"What?" he asked, frowning. He leaned forward and dug his teeth gently into his shoulder.

 

“You seem distracted. Is something wrong?” Izaya gasped at the feeling and his spine arched away from him. Shizuo groaned as his backside ground into his lap. 

 

“The fight-” he began hesitantly. “The fight was two years ago today.”

 

“So?” 

 

“So, I can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he growled, voice low and gruff beside Izaya’s ear. “I’m worried.”

 

“Worried about what, Shizu-chan?” the informant chuckled, placing a hand over Shizuo’s knee. “Things are different now, aren’t they?” 

 

“I guess so,” he sighed, resting his forehead against the other man’s shoulder. He hesitated momentarily before continuing. “I am sorry for what I - even after everything you did, I really wanted t’be the better person. I guess I wasn’t. I wonder if I’m still-”

 

“A monster?” Izaya hummed lightly and smoothed his hand backward, up Shizuo’s thigh. “You know, I do forgive you.”

 

“You do?” he answered, lips descending into a frown. “You shouldn’t.”

 

“And you shouldn’t forgive me for trying to kill you  _ multiple  _ times and generally creating Hell on Earth for you, but here we are.”

 

Shizuo closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers clutching at him. He clasped an arm across Izaya’s chest and gently held his cheek in his hand. The brunette leaned his head to the side to allow him more room and let out a faint whine as he started to kiss his neck again. Izaya’s groans, the taste of his sweat and the feeling of his body undulating beneath him was driving him mad.

 

"I-I don't hate you, Shizu-chan," the informant whispered, softly. The hand left Shizuo’s knee and touched the fingers that were settled on his cheek. "In fact, I-."

 

The prospect of his Izaya’s words sent panic through the larger man. Shizuo jolted back just as he was softly biting his shoulder and, in his haste, accidentally tore the skin. The smaller man let out a grunt and fell forward, off the bed and onto his knees.

 

"Flea-" he exclaimed, reaching out to him. The informant turned around, but remained on his knees on the floor. He looked up at Shizuo from between his legs, one hand clutching his bloody shoulder tightly.

 

"Stop pushing me away," he said, firmly.

 

"I-" he stammered, confused. "I’ll hurt you again.”

 

Izaya knelt up and took Shizuo’s face gently in his hands. He fought the urge to flinch away, but watched the smaller man with strangely wide eyes. The informant leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It was only brief, Shizuo barely had time to enjoy it before he pulled away and his hands disappeared from his face.

 

"Izaya, look at what I did to you," he murmured, sadly.

 

The brunette kissed him again, harder this time. As his lips moved against Shizuo’s, his resolve crumbled entirely. The smaller man’s scent was intoxicating, as was the feeling of his skin sliding across his lips, he made his heart pound. One of his hands moved to the back of Izaya’s head, where it ran smoothly through his dark hair. The other moved to his collar and he began gently unbuttoning his shirt.

 

Izaya moved back, halting his movements and fixed him with a stern glare. "I don’t give a shit if y-you hurt me, Shizu-chan. You’re  _ not  _ allowed to throw me away again."

 

WIth that, the informant kissed his forcefully, his tongue every bit as sharp and dangerous as the knives in his pockets. He pulled Izaya off the floor and continued unbuttoning his shirt until he was able to slide it off his shoulders. This felt right, Shizuo wanted to, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been doing this for the past six months - but, there was still lingering worry prickling his mind. The man paused, recoiling slightly from the kiss. He felt his cheeks heat up as he stumbled over his words.

 

"What if I-"

 

"Shut up, you idiot," Izaya interrupted, his hands smoothing down over the other man’s chest, softly opening the buttons of his shirt. “Just shut up. Stop being so considerate, it doesn’t suit you.”

 

Izaya felt oddly powerful considering Shizuo’s far greater strength, thanks to the uneasy expression on his face. The redhead appeared to be scared - the informant was quite taken by that expression. He pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders and let it flutter to the floor. His pale hands splayed out over the tan skin of Shizuo’s chest, barely there, barely a whisper of a touch. Shizuo shuddered under the cool sensation that his fingertips brought, goosebumps erupting over his shoulders as Izaya carelessly circled different areas of his body. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, reveling in the still odd, unfamiliar feeling of being touched, caressed. Of feeling something other than lonely. 

 

"Izaya" he murmured off, opening his eyes to look down at the smaller man. He was stood so close, his skin touching his, his dark hair fluffed framing his pointed features. His ease terrified Shizuo in a way, and a sudden panic grew in his stomach that he would crush this man who said he loved him, that he would break him again but this time beyond repair.

 

"I don’t know if we should be doing this, flea," he mumbled, uncomfortably. “One day I could lose it. I’ve hurt people I love before without thinking.”

 

Shizuo stiffened and waited for the other man’s reaction. No snide remark came, just the soft feeling of Izaya’s lips against the base of his neck and his hands roamed up his back to settle in his red hair.

 

“I love you too, Shizuo."

 

At the sound of those words and the way Izaya used his full name for once, a new feeling worked its way through his body - he couldn't find the words to describe it. He pulled Izaya down so that he straddled his lap and the informant pressed his body against the other man’s as close as he could possibly make it. As Izaya brought kisses to Shizuo’s lips, his mind clouded with frustration. He felt confused, thoughts flitting between the pleasurable present and the conflict of the past. Afraid of his own strength at that moment, his hands remained limp at his sides, though they ached to touch the other man, to feel his skin, to maybe elicit some of those feelings within him. Izaya’s arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled his hips up slightly, before grinding back down onto Shizuo’s pelvis. The redhead couldn't hold back the breathy groan that escaped into Izaya’s mouth - he seemed to like that, he could feel him smile against his lips. Shizuo pulled back, wary of what to do, if Izaya would let him touch him, if what he was doing was painful, bruising, wrong-

 

"You are allowed to touch me, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, nudging his nose against Shizuo’s. A small smile played around his lips and his dark eyes twinkled mischievously. "In fact, I would enjoy that very much."

 

Shizuo looked at him, dazed slightly. He raised his hands from the bed an inch or two, but paused. Shakily, he stripped Izaya of his clothes. The informant seemed to notice his hesitation and pressed his lips softly against the redhead’s again. Only quickly and as he pulled back Shizuo almost tried to follow. The informant’s hands moved down his shoulders, wrapped around the other man’s and then moved them up to settle on his thighs.

 

"Shizu-chan. Touch me," he hissed, hand sneaking up to tug the back of the man’s hair. He pouted petulantly, seemingly impatient. "Touch me! Do it,  _ monster _ ."

 

A breath caught in Shizuo’s throat. It was that order,  _ those  _ words that made his mind jolt. He couldn't hold back, not anymore, not when Izaya was grinding into him and smiling devilishly. His fingers clenched the smaller man’s thighs tightly, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks. Izaya jumped slightly at the sudden pain, and his hips bucked violently into him.

 

"Flea," Shizuo managed to say, voice hoarse from his movements. "Why do you like playin’ with fire so much?"

 

Izaya stared down at him and chuckled lightly under his breath _.  _ "I love getting burned.”

 

Shizuo’s mask of calm was slipping. A lusty, familiar growl left his lips and he snaked his hand up the other man’s back to pull his hair down, exposing his pale throat. The dark tendrils caught and tangled around his fingers - it must have hurt if Izaya’s pained groans were anything to go by. Excitement took over; a smirk spread across his lips as he moved another hand up over his thigh, to stroke over his hipbone, then down to feel his cock. Izaya let out a sharp breath as his fingers trailed slowly over his length, up and down, repeatedly. 

 

"You’re mad," Shizuo said, ghosting his lips over the base of Izaya’s neck just as the other man had done to him. The informant shuddered as Shizuo’s breath hit his skin and arched his back slightly, chest jutting forward in the process. Wanting to hear Izaya moan again, the redhead leaned forward and latched his teeth onto the skin just below his collarbone, biting and sucking hard enough to elicit another soft whimper from her. It only took a few moments until he felt moisture soaking his fingers after this mistreatment, so he moved back and raised an eyebrow toward the brunette. With a harsh jolt, Shizuo tugged his hair upwards, so he was looking straight at him. His dark eyes were glazed over, mouth agape slightly, and his cheeks were flushed a deep shade of crimson.

 

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, amused. Izaya hesitated, but eventually nodded as best he could under the grip of the hand in his hair. Shizuo pulled him closer and growled again when the other man’s hips ground heavily into his lap. He kissed Izaya, unlike any other kiss they had shared since their confrontation.  All careful and kind inclinations were lost to the madness in his head, instead he was rough, biting and forceful, tongue delving in the informant’s mouth, capturing his moans and cries. Izaya shrieked into the kiss when Shizuo moved his other hand out of his hair and down, so that he could press them inside of him, where he began curling and touching, experimenting to see what would gain the greatest reaction. Wetness was leaking from Izaya’s swollen, heated head, so much that it was trickling down Shizuo fingers and eventually dripping onto the floor. With each thrust of his hand Izaya writhed in his lap, screamed what he thought was his name into his mouth. His body began to shudder, and he felt him rhythmically tighten around his fingers - so he ceased, and pulled them out, settling that hand once again on his thigh.

 

Izaya stared at him, wide eyed and frowning, short breaths rattling through his lungs at a rapid rate. His eyes were dilated and a sheen of sweat was visible over his skin. "Why-"

 

Shizuo twisted their bodies around, so the informant’s back was on the bed, and he was positioned over him. The smirk that had been present on his face whilst watching Izaya writhe on top of him disappeared - he wasn't able to think straight. He needed this man, the man he used to loathe more than anything in the world, he wanted whatever he would give,  _ he begged _ \- "Izaya, please-"

 

"Shut up and take your clothes off," the brunette breathed, his hands working quickly over Shizuo’s belt buckle and releasing it from its catch.

 

Shizuo grinned widely, and followed his lead once more, pushing the black dress trousers down over his hips. His actions had turned clumsy again, his palms were sweating in anticipation as he settled between Izaya’s thighs. The informant leaned forward, capturing his lips in a soft, gently kiss, before he guided him into his entrance. Shizuo closed his eyes - the feeling, of tight, hot, wet,  _ fuck- _

 

_ One, two, three. One, two, three- _

 

When it was over, and the euphoria had left him, he looked at the exhausted man beside him and ran his fingers lightly over the various marks that littered his body. Some were old, burns and scars from the number of fights across the years. Some were fresh. His lips looked raw, Shizuo tasted blood on them when he placed his mouth against the other man’s. A number of bruises were forming around his wrists, his neck, his thighs. Part of him wanted to apologize, to leave the apartment and tell Izaya that he would be safer alone, that this brutality was wrong. But he reminded himself of the screams of ecstasy each mark had wrought from Izaya, how the man had panted his name and clung to him and shuddered ‘ _ I love you’  _ when he came. In the afterglow, Izaya turned and smiled, that fucking tender smile that confused him so much that first time he saw it, he kissed Shizuo’s lips gently and ran his hands through his hair. In that moment Shizuo felt no guilt, or anger - just _ bliss. _

  
  
  
  



	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little brain splurge that I thought would be a nice epilogue. Might make some one-shots in this universe and make a series eventually.

“Shizu-chan.”

 

_ Prod.  _

 

“Shizu-chan.”

 

_ Poke. Prod. Flick. Flick. Squeeze.  _

 

“Shizu-”

 

“If you touch my face again, flea I swear to Christ I'll break your neck a second time.”

 

Izaya chortled and rolled onto his back. He tucked his arms behind his head and looked up at the darkened ceiling with a bright grin on his face. It was around three in the morning and the informant couldn't sleep. And if  _ he  _ couldn't sleep the his bedfellow certainly wasn't going to be getting any either. 

 

“You're cruel,” Izaya moaned, intentionally jerking a bony elbow into Shizuo’s back. 

 

The other man - hair freshly bleached back to a startling blond - turned over and scowled at Izaya in the gloom of their shared bedroom. “I was very cruel. I've spent the last two years tryin’ to make up for it though.”

 

“Ah, my beloved monster,” the informant hummed, rolling onto his side to face Shizuo. “You know you never will be able to. Your surprisingly good-willed conscience won't allow you to forgive yourself.”

 

He raised a hand and lovingly petted Shizuo’s cheek. The man’s jaw was clenched and tense beneath his fingers - despite the years that had passed he still had trouble concealing his anger. He didn't lash out anymore, in fact Izaya was almost annoyed by how much bait it took to get the blond to fuck him in the animalistic way he used to. Shizuo had gotten so sentimental - it wasn't that he minded, he just wasn't used to it. 

 

“Funny how you seem to forget  _ all _ the times you tried to have me murdered or maimed. Shouldn't you be making up for shit too?”

 

Izaya chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers up Shizuo’s leg. “That’d be absolutely no fun at all.”

 

The blond scoffed and poked a finger between Izaya’s eyes. “You're such a bastard.” 

 

“I will admit that setting you on fire was overkill but you did  _ literally  _ throw me into the trash,” he replied, noting how the other man’s mouth turned down into an unhappy frown. With a chuckle he stretched out an arm out so that he could ruffle his hand through Shizuo’s hair. The beast’s eyes softened at the fond gesture. “I do forgive you though, Shizu-chan.”

 

“You do?” Shizuo asked. He raised a hand and laced it through Izaya’s, bringing it to rest between their heads. “I wouldn’t.”

 

“You managed to forgive me, didn’t you?” 

 

The blond snorted and his brows pulled down to a look of discomfort. “Yeah, I did. But you didn’t permanently cripple me, did you?”

 

“In spirit, probably,” Izaya replied, coolly. “Definitely in mind. Still, it’s not worth spending too much time lingering on our past grievances now, is it?”

 

The informant turned over onto his other side, wincing only slightly when the movement sent a familiar ache across his pelvis. The injuries left by their confrontation still hurt, he knew they probably always would, but they were a lot easier to deal with than before. He shuffled so that his back was flush with Shizuo’s chest and his head was resting on his pillow. The blond huffed but opened his arms and allowed Izaya to rest between them. He slid a hand over his hip and squeezed the bone gently. 

 

“How're your legs feeling?” he asked, stroking beneath the shirt Izaya wore to sleep with his thumb. “We walked a long way earlier.”

 

“We did a bar  _ crawl _ not a bar  _ run.”  _

 

“Still, it was a long way. Plus I saw you trip on your way back from the bathroom - you are a fucking drunk idiot. You okay?” 

 

Shizuo drew Izaya closer by winding his arm around his waist so that his hand could rest on his chest. With a light laugh, the blond nuzzled into the back of his neck. Izaya’s body was still so frail beneath his fingers, Shizuo could tell that sometimes even the simplest of actions took a great deal of effort, but he never let the twinges of pain show. It was only due to the amount of time Shizuo spent with him that he noticed the slight twitch of muscle beneath his eye or the pulse of his jawbone through his cheek when he felt uncomfortable. 

 

The smaller man hummed and stretched his legs out so that his toes brushed the top other the other’s feet. “Sore. Hurts a little around my hips. Nothing unmanageable.”

 

“You want any painkillers?” Shizuo asked, concerned. The hand on Izaya’s chest moved down to compass his slender hipbone and it rested there reassuringly, heavy and warm. Despite the brunette’s hum of approval, Shizuo was almost afraid to touch his back, his shoulders, hips. One wrong move and he could damage Izaya even more than he already had - he didn't know if he could bear that again.  

 

The informant shook his head. Sometimes Shizuo was a little too caring, it irritated him that he was viewed as fragile. Part of him wanted to throw a knife into Shizuo’s shoulder just to show him that despite his injuries he was  _ still  _ Izaya Orihara and he was not to be taken lightly. “No, it's not that painful, just a bit irritating.” He rolled his head to one side so that Shizuo could see the vague profile of his face in the gloom of the evening. Stabbing him was a little extreme nowadays, Izaya thought, there was a much more satisfying way to show that he was in charge. “You know, you could provide a distraction.”

 

“Your libido is out of control,” he groaned. Izaya ground his backside into Shizuo’s crotch and the blond let out a low sigh. “I hate you sometimes.”

 

“No you don't,” Izaya hummed, continuing to roll his hips. “You love me.”

 

“Yeah I know,” he agreed. The blond bucked his hips up into Izaya and pulled him closer into his chest. The informant squirmed in his grip but didn’t move further away even as Shizuo yanked off his shirt so that he could caress the mottled skin there. 

 

“Say it back.”

 

Shizuo laughed, the sound barely more than a low rumble in his chest. “You’re so demanding.”

 

“I just like hearing it,” Izaya replied. He smiled softly, sadly almost, and for once he was glad that Shizuo could not see his face. “I haven’t heard it much throughout my life.”

 

The blond kissed the back of his neck and the hand on his hip tightened to an almost painful grip. 

 

“I love the way you move when I touch you.”

 

Shizuo tugged Izaya’s shoulder down so that he was laid flat, then proceeded to straddle his waist. Both his hands settled on either side of his head and he leaned down so that he could press light kisses against his neck. Izaya sighed breathily but his body tensed up under the weight of the other man’s unusual gentleness. 

 

“I love the sounds you make when I'm fucking you, they make me so hard for you. And when you moan my name when you come -  _ fuck. _ ”

 

He murmured that against the skin of Izaya’s chest. His skin was smooth and bitter tasting and webbed with scars that the monster had left there. Shizuo wanted to erase them but he knew that it was far too late for that. All he could do now was kiss them carefully and make sure Izaya knew that he thought of them as part of him, as beautiful in an strange way. Shizuo cared little about the scars on his own body, most of them had been caused by his own mistakes as a child, but many others were the fault of the information broker. He didn't like them as such, they reminded him of a time when the two of them were at each other's throats, but he didn't dislike them either. The scars were just part of him now, part of history. 

 

“I love having you like this, all flushed and breathy. I love that I can make you like this.” 

 

The blond moved down Izaya’s body, coming to rest between his splayed thighs and gently dragged his nails down either side of his waist. The broker gasped and his back arched away from the bed. His eyes fluttered shut, mind revelling in the marvellous sensations caused by the other man’s hands and mouth and the praising words falling from his mouth. Shizuo pressed his lips to the skin above his hipbone and began to suck, teeth nipping and biting. Izaya groaned, the sound trailing off into a twisted gargle when the blond’s hand wrapped around his length. 

 

“F-fuck,” he panted, threading his hands through Shizuo’s hair. 

 

The blond glanced up at Izaya through his lashes and, just before lowering his mouth over the head of his cock, murmured. “Oh  _ fuck,  _ Izaya. I love _ you _ .”

 

At the sound of his name and the feeling of Shizuo’s hot, wet mouth engulfing him, Izaya keened and his hips bucked upward involuntarily. His lover pressed his tongue flat against the underside of his cock as he moved up and down, each drag of his mouth sending shudders up Izaya’s spine. One of his hands stroked softly over his balls, a well known sensitive spot that had Izaya’s eyes popping open and his mouth hanging wordlessly agape. Shizuo’s movements were long and languid and the broker found himself unable to focus on anything but the drag of his tongue and the gentle skim of teeth that never nicked hard enough to be anything but pleasurable. 

 

“Ngh- ah, fuck, feels really good,” he mumbled, fingers gripping the other man’s hair tighter. “So good at this, Sh-Shizu-chan.”

 

Shizuo hummed appreciatively around the head of his cock and the vibrations caused Izaya to squeeze his eyes shut. The man’s mouth felt so  _ good,  _ he knew he wouldn't last much longer at the rate they were going. A pressure began to build in his abdomen, a maddening, wonderful pressure that- made his weak legs tremble. As if on cue, Shizuo slowed down significantly. Izaya groaned, annoyed by the sudden loss of feeling. 

 

“C’mon,” Izaya gasped. He raised himself up slightly on his elbows and glared at the blond, who stared back coyly. His lips separated from Izaya’s cock entirely and the informant shuddered as the cold air hit his wet ski.  “D-don't stop now!” 

 

“You're such a brat sometimes,” Shizuo teased, running one finger up a vein running up his length. He drew it back down to the base and smiled when Izaya let out a strained gurgle. “What do you want me to do?” 

 

The informant narrowed his eyes. “Don't try that shit with again or I'll make it ten times worse for you.”

 

Shizuo grinned and moved up over the smaller man’s torso so that he could grab a fistful of his hair. Though he was more aware of hurting Izaya these days, he knew that his lover enjoyed a little pain, a little roughness. Well, maybe more than a little. The blond dragged him into a sitting position and knelt up between his knees, so that they were looking eye to eye. 

 

“Oh yeah?” Shizuo challenged, twisting the dark hair tightly. “What would you do?” 

 

Izaya laughed, though the sound was a little strained due to the pull on his scalp. He liked how vocal Shizuo was in bed but he saw it as a competition - who could make the other one blush first, how filthy could they go. “I'd-” Shizuo’s hand wrapped back around his cock and began to slowly stroke up and down, making him choke momentarily on his words.  The hand in his hair loosened but Izaya remained sat upright and propped himself up on the heel of his hand. “Agh- fuck, I  _ hate  _ you.”

 

“Carry on.”

 

Izaya began to speak again when a spit-covered finger slid slid inside of him. The combined sensations of the hand around him and the intruding finger made his mouth drop open and all the planned insults turned to shrieks. Shizuo chuckled and leaned forward so that he could bite down on the juncture of his neck. His finger pushed in harder and curled until it hit a tender spot while his hand sped up and pre-cum started to dribble across his fingers. Soon after the tightening pressure in Izaya’s stomach spiralled out of control and burst into sudden, blinding pleasure. 

 

Somewhere in the haze, he heard Shizuo murmur ‘ _ I love you’  _ again. The arm propping him up buckled but before he could fall back the blond wrapped an arm around his back and held him in place. They remained in that embrace until Izaya’s breathing calmed and the flush on his skin lightened by the barest shade. The broker was still dizzy when Shizuo pressed a kiss to his temple and began to speak softly. 

 

“Are you happy?”

 

Izaya chuckled dreamily as Shizuo lowered him back onto the sheets. His previously sore muscles were now entirely slack and he closed his eyes tiredly. The blond dropped down next to the informant and wound an arm around his waist so that he could rest his head on his chest. Slowly, the smaller man raised his hand and began to stroke Shizuo’s hair aimlessly. 

 

“I'm happy,” he answered, in a tone more honest than he had ever been. “Are you?”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo smiled. “You tired now?”

 

“Exhausted,” Izaya replied, yawning widely. “Sorry.”

 

Shizuo tutted jokingly and drew the duvet back over their bodies. “Fuckin’ cheeky to wake me up and then sleep once you've got your rocks off.”

 

“Hush, beast.”

 

“Pillow princess.”

 

The broker laughed and searched under the covers for Shizuo’s hand so that he could lace their fingers together. “I'll make sure to spoil you rotten in the morning.”

 

“Rotten being the operative word with you.”

 

“Night night, Shizu-chan. Try not to stab your hard-on through my spine, m’kay?”

 

“Yeah yeah, night flea.”

 

 

 


End file.
